


Arda Endures

by Samara_Draven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Between The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-11 04:32:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 140,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3314072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samara_Draven/pseuds/Samara_Draven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As a painter, living in the woods of California's mountains, Seren enjoyed a life of solitude and quiet until a hole in the air dumped a strange man in the snow before her. Her quest to help him leads her to places that no muse could capture and the truth of her own world will unravel before her eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Change of Scenery

**Author's Note:**

> I do have a plot for this planned out (unusually enough for me ;) but please bear with me as work keeps me pretty busy and it may be some time between posts. This is my first Tolkien fic - ever. Constructive criticism is welcome, flames will keep my feet warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been down with a cold lately so had time to finish this chapter. I hope you enjoy it. =D

“There’s still no sign of him, my lord.”

Thranduil didn’t turn to address Haavelas, the elf who had brought him this news. In fact he gave no indication that he had heard him speak.

Haavelas swallowed, nervously coming up from the tidy bow he usually greeted the king with. As the silence stretched on, he considered his next words to fill it. The moment he opened his mouth to speak, Thranduil spoke for him.

“Then conduct another search, captain.” Still he didn’t turn from his view of the shadows in the great cavern around his throne. Few of the lanterns had been lit since nightfall and, were it not for the king’s pale hair and shimmering robe, he too would have been lost in the darkness.

“My lord, Legolas’s last missive stated that he was going to Gundabad. He said he had learned of a strange phenomenon there. If we expand our search, we might –”

“My son’s last known whereabouts are from within the forest.” Thranduil’s voice was like ice, smooth and deceptively calm.

Haavelas shivered imperceptibly. “We have searched the forest, king Thranduil. Many times.”

Now the tall form did move and Haavelas immediately lowered his head in a respectful bow. The air seemed to thicken as the king approached, despite the openness surrounding them. Thranduil circled him quietly, his boots making only the faintest click, his robes the barest whisper on the stone floor.

“Obviously you’ve missed something,” Thranduil said.

He kept his eyes on the bowed elf as he took leisurely strides around him. He stopped once he made a full circuit and silently dared the other elf to voice another protest. His breath was coming a bit shallow as he watched Haavelas. His anger was getting the better of him and he was more upset that it was always there now. As the days passed with no sign of Legolas, Thranduil’s composure slipped. Memories of a time long past that all too closely mirrored the most recent weeks came to his thoughts uncalled. To lose what was most precious to him the same way he had another, threatened to drive him mad. A low panic burned almost constantly within him now and being harsh on the newly appointed captain of the guard brought only a moment’s relief from the strain on his self-control.The last captain had made much the same argument as Haavelas did now. However, he hadn’t known when to stop pressing his point. Banishing him had been a sweet but short lived comfort.

Haavelas was wiser than this it seemed as he deepened his bow and clapped a fist over his heart. “If there is any clue as to what happened to Legolas, my lord; we will find it.”

Thranduil stepped back, not sure if he was mollified or disappointed. “Then go.”

Haavelas didn’t dare raise his eyes to the king as he turned from him. His strides were quick and purposeful and he took every effort not to seem in haste to get away. Once he was among the guard barracks, he breathed his relief. He knew Thranduil wouldn’t continue tolerate his failure and it was only a matter of time before he was told not to return empty handed.

It was only after he assembled the party he felt he needed and they were equipped and clear of the kingdom’s gates that he shared his intentions. He and those who chose to follow him would scout the lands beyond the forest that led to Gundabad. Legolas’s last known location hadn’t been far from the northern pass. Haavelas felt certain that if there were any clues to be found, they would be there. His nerves rattled in every fiber of his body as he voiced his defiance of the king’s command. They would either be victorious and the banishment he expected would be stayed by their success or they would return with nothing and lose everything, their kin and their home. Or they would never return at all.

 

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Los Angeles was usually what most people thought of when they thought of California. The idea of there being heavily forested areas with a blanket of snow on pines that towered over the streets seemed foreign to all who believed the state was one of endless sunshine, flat open coastline dotted with palms and dry deserts decorated with cacti. It was true California had all of these things, and up in the mountains of Big Bear, little of the tourist oasis was evident. The winding, steep roads and dense population of oak and pine trees hid away the small town. Only the yearly camping and skiing enthusiasts seemed to know it was there.

To Seren Aneira Evans, it was home. She rarely left the mountains, preferring the quiet of the forest around her to the bustling cities below. Often she trekked even deeper up the mountain, far beyond the paths and roads meant for humans; which, subsequently kept them from roaming from their manufactured journeys. It was winter now and the snow was thick and soft on the ground. Great swaths of it flawlessly stretched in the clearings between the trees, glittering like stars sprinkled on the ground. The moon was high and the night was awash with its pale cerulean glow. This far from the metropolis of L.A. and its suburbs, the air was quiet save for the sounds of animals nearby and the gentle breeze nipping at skin and rustling the trees.

Seren made her way to the center of a clearing she knew well and began to remove the pack she had brought along. She wouldn’t make a fire up here as the wind could too easily spark the trees with embers. It had been a dry autumn and even drier winter, thus far and the forest crackled more than groaned these days.

An easel was soon standing in the snow with a canvas on its face. A little table with a battery powered lamp was set up for her oil paints to her right, an array of brushes strapped to a belt on her hip. Seren checked everything was in place one last time before applying a fat brush to a pigment of the deepest cobalt and swirling it on the canvas.

Repeatedly she dipped the tool in the color until the top half of the white expanse before her was covered. Darker colors followed along the line where the paint stopped and were blended upward. After that, lighter shades were layered on until the moon and its gentle light were standing in stark contrast to the darkness. Stroke after stroke, Seren painted until the sky before her was reflected on her canvas. The shining white of the snow was applied next. The paint was of her personal design and was mixed with fine particles of titanium dioxide to bring the snow to life.

Once she was satisfied with the landscape, she began adding trees. Starting with their trunks and using a stippling technique for the branches. The trees farther from her were painted first and would have to dry before she could add more so she took some time to package her used brushes that she would no longer need. She’d clean them at home since it was nearly freezing out and the paint thinner might damage them.

Halfway through her task, a feeling of being watched came over her. She closed her eyes and listened. From the far side of clearing, a sound of crunching snow, faint and slow carried over to her ears. It was too big a sound for a hoofed animal and not soft enough for a pad footed animal. It had to be human.

Seren smiled slowly. Only one person other than herself would venture here and only because he was looking for her and knew where she’d be.

“Hello Taliesin,” she called out. Her brother often came up here in the early morning hours if he knew she was up painting and dragged her off for a sparring session. She didn’t see the need for continuing the sword exercises their father had taught them but Tal liked to do them still and she humored him, if only because she could persuade him to carry her easel back down the mountain.

A few moments went by and her brother hadn’t acknowledged her. Usually, he grumbled immediately about being able to sneak up on her one day but there was no other sound from the direction she’d first heard him.

“Tal, I know you’re there! You may as well show yourself!”

A strange crackle began to hum on the breeze and a golden light at the space in the trees where she suspected her brother was bloomed. It was small at first but it quickly grew until it spanned two meters in height and half that in width.

Seren gasped and stumbled over her stool when she stepped back. She glanced at the offending equipment and then back at the light at the edge of the clearing. It shimmered with shifting light but she could clearly see a sickly greenish portrait in the oval, hard black stone for earth and gnarled twisted trees decorated the landscape. Small gangly and pointed creatures with black skin and rotted mouths were moving fast as if toward the portal or whatever it was but Seren couldn’t make herself move.

She was transfixed on the scene inside the gold ring of light. It was horrifying. Instinctively the place she saw was repulsive and yet an intense sadness welled inside her and the insane thought to go into it gripped her. She shook her head and turned away from the sight, leaving her easel behind. Her only thought was to get home. More crackling filled the air and despite herself, she stopped her retreat to chance a look back. The opening was pulsing and shimmering wildly now, light cascading over the surface and it seemed to swell in size. Then it flared, bright and blinding. A dark figure tumbled through and with a loud pop, the light disappeared.

Seren looked at the ground and gasped. A man, by all appearances, lay face first in the snow there. He wasn’t one of those slimy, clawed monstrosities she had seen. There was no movement from the newcomer and Seren could see he was fair skinned with even fairer hair. He was dressed in odd green… well to her it looked like moss from this distance. A quiver of arrows was strapped to his back as were twin white handled daggers, though there was no sign of the bow the arrows were obviously for.

_Not so harmless, then…_

The figure breathed and shivered against the cold but otherwise didn’t stir. The thought to leave him and fetch the authorities occurred to her but she was uncertain if this was even real. How would anyone believe the story of how he arrived? She could leave out all mention of the light and the world beyond but the weapons and odds clothes would be that much more difficult to explain. Another shiver from the man on the ground shook her out of her thoughts and she took a few steps closer.

“Ar-are you alright? Sir?”

She tiptoed closer. Her rational mind was screaming at her to run the other way but she couldn’t bring herself to. As cold as it was, this stranger wouldn’t survive long up here and as she crept closer, she saw that he was in no shape to help himself. He was covered in gashes and bruises and a dark bloom was spreading through the snow under his forehead.

Once she was within reach, she gently poked him in the shoulder. There was no response, of course and she hadn’t truly expected one.

“Sir?” She poked him again and then gently pulled him onto his back, jumping back as he flopped almost onto her feet.

She took in his face and a cry escaped her. It was a mess! Nearly completely covered in blood and swollen everywhere, she still noticed that his ears came to a delicate point. The skin, where it wasn’t smudged with dirt and the sticky red stream oozing from his scalp, was almost luminous and inhumanly smooth. The sick grayish pallor made him look hours dead. The steady rise and fall of his ribcage belied that.

“What are you?” She let her fingers ghost over the shell of his left ear. It felt real enough and was rather warm to the touch considering the temperature. She jerked her hand back. “Is this some new body modification thing?”

Seren looked around the clearing, wondering why tonight of all nights her brother would choose not to show up and cursed for not bringing her cell phone. She never brought it but she had never needed it when she came up here. The distraction it caused at times could ruin the entire muse when she was painting. Deciding that it would be quickest to run back to her house for the phone, she removed her coat and long sweater and draped them over the strange man, leaving her in just her jeans and thermal shirt.

She was tucking them securely under his form to keep drafts at bay when a surprisingly strong hand gripped her wrist. She gasped and looked into wide, ice blue eyes. They flickered, taking in the surroundings as he struggled to speak and narrowed suspiciously as he turned his head wildly from one side and to the other.

“Hey… you’re safe. Be calm! I’m going to get help since I can’t carry you down the mountain.”

He looked at her then, blinking; a question in his eyes and then he looked at the spot he tumbled out of the hole in the air.

She remembered the awful creatures she had seen and took a guess at what he wanted to know.

“Those things didn’t follow you here, you’re safe.”

He didn’t seem to really believe this and continued looking about but some of the wildness left his eyes. Finally he looked at her again. “Wh-oo are y-you?”

“My name is Seren. I live just a short distance from here. And you?”

The hand clamped around her arm started to go slack and the man swayed. “Legolas…” He shook his head to try and clear it but unconsciousness reclaimed him once more.

Seren checked all of his vital signs in a hurry to be sure he hadn’t died but there was a pulse, steady if a little faint and his breathing seemed untroubled. She tucked him under her garments again before taking off at a run down the hillside.


	2. Teamwork

Seren arrived in her yard to see her brother’s tall form through her kitchen window. She burst into the cabin and Taliesin’s cheerful greeting died on his lips when he took in the state of her: muddy feet, pants soaked with snow halfway to the knee, small scratches on her pale face, loose pine needles in her dark red hair and without a coat.

“Seren? What happened to you?”

She didn’t answer but gestured for him to follow. He all but threw the cup of tea he’d been cradling into the sink in his haste to do so.

He caught up to her, almost clipping her heels with his boots and again asked, “What’s going on? Where’s your coat?”

She shook her head, her breath still coming fast and deep from her run. “I’m fine.” Really, she had been incredibly lucky not to have slipped and hurt herself. In hindsight it seemed a foolhardy thing to have done. She went to the storage room in the back of the cabin and began rummaging. “Help me find the litter.”

Tal blinked at her. “What do you need that for?”

She stared at him. “Questions later. Look.” Breathing was becoming less of a hardship as her pulse began to slow. “I’m going to put together some first aid supplies – did you drive your truck here?” She strode out to the bathroom across the hall and started taking out things she thought she might need.

Tal continued searching for the transport rack, trying not to ask more questions. “With the way the roads are? Do you need to ask?”

“Oh good!” She called out and then suddenly shouted, “Blankets!”

Tal glanced back to see his sister dash from the bathroom, her arms ladened with gauze, pressure bandages and antibiotic ointments. He went back to searching for the litter, mumbling about the weight of the old typewriter he had to move out of the way.

Dumping her cargo onto her bed, Seren fetched a satchel to carry it all in. She met Taliesin in the living room, dragging the litter out the front door and plucked another coat for herself from the foyer closet.

“Now will you tell me what’s going on?” He took to the stairs of her front porch, tossing a look at her as she closed and locked her house.

Once everything was in the pickup’s bed, they climbed into the seats and he turned the engine over. When Seren told him they were going to her usual clearing, he balked.

“Not even my truck will go all the way up there, Ren. I know you think I can work miracles but there are things even I cannot do,” he said in his most patronizing Big Brother voice.

She hated it when he used the nickname that way. “I’m serious, Tal! And I didn’t say we were going to drive the entire way. I wouldn’t have asked you to get the litter if I thought you were _that_ amazing.”

Taliesin sobered a bit at that. “No need to be hurtful…” He muttered as they headed onto the road. The path that led up the mountain wasn’t far and as he turned onto it and started up, he asked, “So obviously we’re going to retrieve someone… who is it?”

“I don’t know him. He said his name was Legolas.”

At this, Tal almost stopped the truck but it skidded on the slippery incline so he had to continue driving forward.

“We’re going to pick up some strange guy we don’t know?”

“He’s badly wounded, Tal. It’ll take emergency crews too long to get here. Most of the roads are still closed after last night’s snowfall.” As it was, she’d already been away for nearly thirty minutes and it would take longer to drive through the terrain than she did running over it and still more time to hike the rest of the way. First responders would still be demanding answers from her over the phone before dispatching a truck that would take hours to get through. Big Bear didn’t have the budget for many snowplows or a helicopter and the most populated areas were cleared first. Most people didn’t go this far up the mountain.

Taliesin had more questions but the road was treacherous and he didn’t dare ask them while he had to concentrate on driving in such conditions. When they finally reached the end of the paved road, he sent Seren out to chock the tires of the truck so he could set the engine brake. To further ensure his pickup wouldn’t slide back down the slope, he used the winch and cable to anchor it to a set of thick pines.

Seren had the litter out and open and covered in blankets by the time he was done so they immediately set out, following the tracks she’d made in the snow earlier. Speaking was difficult as the terrain made breathing a chore so the hike was a quiet one.

When they came to her clearing, Legolas was still lying where he’d been left. Seren wasted no time, setting the litter down next to him and again checked his vitals for signs of life. His pulse was more difficult to detect and his breathing was shallow now. Too much time had been wasted. Seren tipped him sideways and lifted the blankets to fit the litter under the prone form. Tal helped roll the man onto it and they strapped him down.

Then he noticed the odd clothes, weapons and pointed ears.

“Jesus Ren…”

She just nodded. “I know… I know. Let’s just get him to the truck, ok?”

Tal nodded. “On three.”

Carrying the strange man who called himself Legolas back to the truck took longer than Seren and Tal had hoped it would. A bitter cold breeze had started up and drew clouds in, making their way darker and more precarious. At times, the wind blew hard enough that they had to stop and just brace themselves and the weight they bore against the wind until it passed. Fresh snow began to fall when they finally came close enough to see the beams of the truck’s headlights. Tal had left them running to guide them in the dark and Seren was grateful for his foresight.

They hefted Legolas into the pickup’s bed and Seren grabbed the satchel of first aid supplies, hopping in the back with him. Tal almost protested but he knew his sister couldn’t tend the man’s wounds on the drive back any other way. And she wouldn’t listen to him if he tried to dissuade her, so he unsecured his truck and drove very carefully back down the mountain.

 

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Haavelas stopped his company at the edge of a clearing and the elves took shelter behind trees and rocks as a group of orcs passed through the expanse of dead grass and black stone before them. When they were gone, he motioned for his kin to come near.

“This is the very edge of the forest,” he said with a gesture at the rocky landscape beyond. The greenish hue of the sky ahead churned and the wind coming from that direction carried foulness they all had trouble enduring. It was the land of orcs, one of their greatest strongholds. Gundabad laid just a few hectares beyond.

“None of you are being commanded to follow me into this wretched land,” Haavelas said. “I will go, even if I must go alone. You know our king’s command. To follow me would surely mean exile.”

An elf by the name of Caireann stepped forward. “No sign of Legolas has been discovered in all our searches of the forest,” she declared. “The king wants him found so desperately and will banish us all in turn for failing to do so. How can I not go with you?” She bowed her head, fist clenched on her chest.

Others began to step forward as well, first two and then four until every one of them had made the same pledge as Caireann and repeated her words, “How can I not?”

Haavelas smiled at them, both heartened by their words and saddened as the burden of bearing responsibility for their fates settled on his shoulders. “We go forward then.” He turned toward the barren plains of Gundabad and began the journey into the orc stronghold.


	3. 'Just' Earth

Dim voices drifted into his thoughts and the world around him began to press in. Legolas felt consciousness drift slowly to him carried by a hushed argument in a room beyond his sight. The place he was in was utterly foreign to him but he could sense the natural materials of the structure. It was a wood of some kind, pine maybe, but it didn’t smell quite right. In fact the very air around him felt wrong, though a familiar energy caressed his awareness. It was an ominous heaviness that lurked in the back of his mind, this place; this… realm was thoroughly imbued with it. _Shadow…_

The voices suddenly rose as they disagreed more passionately about what to do with him. One voice he recognized from the snowy landscape in which he’d awoken earlier.

 _Seren…_ That was her name. Now he could hear her arguing with a man she called Tal and seemed rather familiar with.

Legolas lifted the blankets covering him, trying not groan as pain radiated through him. Then he noticed his tunic was gone as were his weapons and he was covered in bandages. He stared in wonder at the white patches strapped to him with a strange sticky ribbon and felt one with a finger, finding it soft, though it stuck to his skin where his wounds had bled. A strange salve coated the cuts and gashes and they didn’t sting as much as they should for which he was grateful. The salve didn’t smell very medicinal and wouldn’t help speed healing but it did protect the opened skin and reduced the pain.

His head was the most grievously injured, he knew; for it hurt to turn too quickly and it seemed too heavy to bear for long. He couldn’t stay and heal, though his body was desperate for rest. What he found in Gundabad was too important to wait. His father would surely come looking for him, if he hadn’t already. His most recent memories seemed fractured and he feared he was gone longer than he believed.

Now that his eyes, had adjusted to the darkness, Legolas could see the wooden walls of the abode around him. A clear pane of glass allowed him a glimpse of the world outside but all was dark, save for a brief glimpse of the moon through the clouds here and there. He surveyed the room and spotted his daggers slung over a chair, his tunic folded neatly on the seat. He lifted it and a strange scent wafted to his nose. Carefully he sniffed the fabric, trying to determine if the odd perfume was a poison intended to incapacitate him. There were many traces of unnatural substances but nothing seemed harmful so he slid it carefully over his torso and fidgeted with it for a minute. It felt odd on his skin. It seemed to have been washed clean of the blood and dirt it had suffered during his fight against the orcs, with whatever they used to cleanse with here.

He felt much better after strapping his daggers to his back, though his arrows were still missing. A sudden sadness claimed him as he remembered his bow. He shook the memory away, letting his curiosity get the better of him and explored the room.

Heavy wooden furniture stood around the bed he’d been lying in. The lower, longer piece had many drawers and he found only clothes of strange fibers in them. On the surface, sat an array of things he recognized: a brush, a hand held looking glass, a phial of scented oil and something he believed to be a hairpin.

He picked it up gently and admired the swirling silver wires bearing bronze and copper leaves intricately woven together in a shape that loosely resembled a pair of wings. Small stones, almost white in color, were set in the boughs of the piece and they caught the weak moonlight, twinkling at him. He let a thumb drift over the surface and smiled. There were no shadows here.

Setting it back where he’d found it, he continued to caress and prod at the strange things in the room. There was so much that felt wrong and unnatural here and other things that were plainly made by hand and were as comfortable as home. A chair carved of a lovely oak wood but lacquered with something foul was where he’d found his things. Of the bed covers, some were woven threads and others were a smooth and alien fiber he couldn’t recognize.

Strong scents drew his attention to a door in the corner of the room and he entered a dark small antechamber. There was no light here at all and the scent of damp pervaded the space. Though he didn’t like it, at least it was something familiar to him. He sniffed toward the unnatural odors until he bumped a tray of some sort, with many objects on it. The kaleidoscope of smells came from there and he felt for the phials, lifting them in turn and trying to ascertain what they contained but they only made him sneeze.

Footsteps resounded through the abode and stopped just outside of the other door in the room. Legolas backed out of the smaller room and moved to a corner near the window, not sure what to expect but worried he’d have to defend himself. His head swam with the sudden motion but he kept to his feet and waited. Long moments followed before a quiet knock sounded on the door.

“Legolas?” It was Seren.

His brow knit in confusion at being addressed and he shifted on his feet nervously. “Yes?”

“I thought I heard you,” she said, a smile evident in her tone. “May we come in? Are you dressed?”

Further confused, Legolas looked down at himself and blurted, “Yes.”

The door clicked and slowly swung open, allowing light from the room beyond to spill inside. He blinked and shifted away from it and studied the woman standing in the frame.

Seren made no move to turn on the light in the room, fearing that it might spook her guest. He looked like a trapped animal as it was. “You should be resting,” she said gently. “Your head suffered a pretty good knock.”

“I still think we should take him to the hospital,” said the unfamiliar voice.

Legolas leaned to see beyond Seren and spotted a tall man reclining at a table under a strange unnatural light, picking at an orange.

Seren sighed. “Please forgive my brother –”

“Where am I?” Legolas suddenly had to know. “This place… it’s not like any I’ve been to in all my travels through Middle Earth.”

“’Middle Earth’? Well this is Earth – as in just ‘Earth’. There’s nothing ‘Middle’ about it.” The man at the table scoffed.

“Taliesin!” Seren scowled at him before turning back to Legolas who still looked ready to bolt. “You must be hungry. I will answer your questions as best I can while I prepare you something.”

She turned toward the lighted room, leaving the door standing wide open.

After a long silence, Legolas cautiously approached the door’s arch, though he remained on his side of it. “I’m free to go? I’m not a prisoner?” He slowly stepped into the room, wincing at the glare coming from a lantern in the room with many round little lights on it, far too many he thought.

Seren was shocked at the question and stared at him, blinking once or twice before answering. “I… no, you’re not. I mean you’re not a prisoner and yes you can go, if that is your wish.” She glanced at his head wound; startled to see it remarkably diminished. All of his wounds seemed to be days into healing, rather than hours.

“Where would you go?” Taliesin asked. “A new snowstorm just arrived, the roads are impassable and the… portal you came through disappeared.”

At this, Legolas furrowed his brow. Seren sighed from where she was slicing cheese and vegetables. Her brother was still having trouble believing her story about Legolas’s arrival and was nearly convinced he was being had. The taller man stared at the side of the elf’s head and Legolas turned his gaze to see what had his attention but the man just averted his gaze to the other side.

“What?” Legolas snapped.

“How did you…? Your ears…”

Legolas frowned. There was nothing wrong with his ears. “All elves are born with such ears.”

“Elves?” Taliesin’s dark rust-colored eyebrows rose. “Uh, sister? Are we sure we shouldn’t be taking him to a psychiatric hospital?”

“I know what I saw, Tal. If he says he’s an elf, after what happened, who am I to say he’s not?”

Tal shook his head. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve never met an elf before.”

A platter of food was set upon the table and Legolas had to admit he was hungry, though he was dubious about what might pass as edible here, given the strange unnatural essence to everything here. Gingerly, he picked up a slice of carrot and considered his question as he nibbled the smallest piece from it.

“There aren’t any elves here, in this… ‘just Earth’?”

“Elves exist only in our fairy tales, Legolas,” Seren said. She placed a tumbler of water and a piece of stone flatware on the table and indicated that he could sit.

“No elves…?” The idea made his head spin. He gripped the chair in front of him for support as he considered it. His people weren’t here. How would he get back? If there was even a place to get back to? “And what of dwarves? Wizards? Hobbits and orcs? Do any of them exist here?”

Seren claimed a chair opposite her brother and shook her head. “Such manner of beings are all fiction to entertain our people but never have they existed here.”

Legolas paled. “Never existed…?”

The room seemed to tilt strangely and Tal sprung up from his chair in an instant, gripping the elf’s shoulders and guiding him into a chair. For several long minutes, Legolas sat with his head in his hands trying to accept what they said. Seren watched him with sad, green eyes, wondering if she was in over her head.

“Legolas…” When he finally raised his eyes to her, a deep sorrow shone in the blue depths and she felt like she could cry for him. “Please eat something. We can talk more when you feel more yourself.” He nodded mutely and started picking at his food.

 

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“Captain!”

Haavelas looked up from his study of the stolen map from king Thranduil’s armory. A lieutenant was rushing toward the group, one of the scouts he sent to check the pass ahead. In his hands he carried pieces of polished wood; elegant and pointed on one end, broken and jagged on the other, an arch snapped in two. There was no mistaking Legolas’s bow. The carvings adorning it were specifically laid for him. It could be no other’s.

Caireann gasped. The entire group feared what this could mean for the prince and despair took hold of their hearts.

Haavelas accepted the remnants of the weapon and wrapped them in a soft bundle, stowing it away. He would take it back to their king but they wouldn’t return just yet.

“This proves nothing,” Haavelas said. “Legolas may yet be out there. Until a body or further evidence of his demise is found, a broken bow is just a broken bow.” Somberly, they nodded and straightened to attention. Haavelas again took out the map and laid it on the ground. He traced a finger along the path Legolas would have been most likely to take.

“Gundabad… Just over this ridge. None have ever gone into the great orc fortress and returned. If we reach its gates and no other sign can be found, I fear Legolas will remain lost to us.”

It was a thought that made them heart sick to consider but it was a possible reality and it seemed more likely with each day they spent in these accursed lands. The shadows chipped away at their resolve and keeping their hopes bolstered grew more difficult as time passed.

Already, they had been here long enough for Thranduil to know something was amiss. Having neglected the day he was meant to report in and the armory inventory report coming due yesterday, the king would quickly figure out what he’d done. Haavelas had nothing left to him but this task and seeing his kin home to safety.

The skirmishes they had with orcs were coming more frequently and it was getting harder to evade large numbers. Soon they would be unable to travel further.

They split into three groups of four. One group, Haavelas sent back to wait at edge of the forest and report what they’d found to Thranduil if they failed to return. The remaining two continued on. One group, including Haavelas, kept to the ground while the last and most agile traveled through the trees and over the rocky ridge, scouting ahead for signs of orc activity while the group on the ground served as bait.

They hadn’t gone far this day when a faint whistle from the scouts alerted Haavelas to orcs nearby. The following signal was a numbers count and there were too many to take on with just eight of them. Haavelass ordered the men around him to take to the trees and they watched and waited.

Soon, the thunder of dozens of armored footsteps hitting the ground in tandem could be heard and not long after that, a swarm of darkness appeared from around the bend. It was an entire company! A small army of orcs, dressed for war made their way down the pass. Fear settled in Haavelas’s stomach as he watched the column draw closer. There was only one place the orcs could be heading, only one destination on this path they could want to march on: Mirkwood.

“Surely they don’t intend to assault the kingdom of the wood elves!” Caireann hissed from her tree.

Still the dark formation marched south. Haavelass thought of the group he’d sent with orders to wait at the edge of the forest. The orcs would come right past them! He hoped they saw them in time to head off and warn their people.

Where the pass forked, the orcs stopped. Watching from the trees, the elves traded confused glances between them as they listened to orders being shouted through the column. Abruptly, the orcs turned east, marching into the wild lands of the Grey Mountains far north of Mirkwood. Wilder and more savage orcs were the only ones to call those mountains home. Were they going to march against their own?

As the creatures filed up and over the craggy rocks and down out of sight, Haavelas decided they should learn more. A couple of stragglers wandered toward the ridge last and the elves swiftly and silently picked off all but one and surrounded him.

“Elfling…” the orc drawled as Haavelas stepped forward.

“Why are you marching on your own kind?”

The orc laughed. “Foolish Elfling!”

Haavelas leveled an arrow at him. “I won’t ask again!” When the orc laughed, he loosed the arrow at a leg and the creature shrieked. While the orc snapped off the shaft of the arrow, Haavelas nocked another and took aim.

“You can’t stop us! The elf prince will be found!”

“What is Legolas Greenleaf to you?”

The orc answered this with more laughter and Haavelas let the second arrow fly, striking the orc’s other leg. With a gesture, he signaled the rest of his company to release an arrow as well and the orc quivered on his feet as he was pelted. When it stopped, he fell on all fours breathing heavily.

Still he smiled as if he’d won some great victory. “Whatever magic he used to hide from us cannot endure. We will find him and he will lead the Orc of Gundabad! Your land will be laid waste by your own!” He laughed again but it quickly trailed off on a wheeze and he slumped to the ground beneath him, eyes sightless.

Haavelas stared at the dead orc for a time, thinking on what was said. His mind spun in circles on what would happen if Legolas were corrupted like the east elves had been. His thoughts were lifted, however, when something else occurred to him. He smiled as real hope bloomed anew in his breast.

“What did he mean, Captain?” Caireann stood next to him, casting a worried look at him.

Haavelas grinned wider still. “I do not know. What I’m certain of, is that Legolas still lives.” He stepped away from the orc’s corpse and addressed the rest of his kin. “Legolas still lives!”

Cheers and smiles greeted the news so dearly hoped for. He gazed toward the Grey Mountains. Now they knew where he might be and it was of the greatest importance to find him. _Legolas still lives!_


	4. An Elf's Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil tries to carry on with business as usual and Legolas shares how he survived the hoards of orcs.

Thranduil slowly paced across the platform on which his throne stood, agitated beyond measure. His leisurely strides were the only hint of his disquiet. Within his calm façade, however; he longed to pick up his blade and go searching for his son himself. He had a kingdom to attend, however and it wouldn’t do to have the king of the Woodland elves haring off to look for Legolas, no matter how personally he was affected. The guard would do just as well. Kings didn’t have the luxury of being so reckless.

For the morning, his day consisted of reports on their treasury stores, lists of requisitions from the guard and deciding trade arrangements. It was a tedious day that only served to irritate him further until he dismissed the council he’d called, claiming a need for nourishment. It wasn’t untrue but he’d often work throughout the day without ever breaking his fast until the last meal. His desire to accept the noonday meal wasn’t unusual enough raise questions, however and he was soon alone with his thoughts.

A lieutenant he sent out to ascertain the whereabouts of Haavelas and his party was expected to report back at any moment. The captain was two days overdue and news of a missing map had infuriated the king to no end. While he wished no ill on Haavelas, he also couldn’t let this defiance of his command pass without penance. The captain of the guard had forfeit the right to his status with his actions but Thranduil couldn’t help the terrible hope that bloomed within when he learned what the rogue elf had done.

Back and forth he wandered; his long pale hair and robes drifting around him as he went. The sound of footsteps entered the chamber and he stopped to see the lieutenant he’d dispatched crossing the stone walkway towards him. He wasn’t alone. Four of the elves who had left with Haavelas accompanied him. It was a long parade to the throne and Thranduil watched them, utterly still as though he too were carved from the stone.

“My lord,” the lieutenant said when they finally were before him and they all stopped to bow respectfully.

Thranduil studied the group in front of him, feeling a dangerous calm settle over him. After asking the lieutenant for his report, which amounted to little beyond having the newcomers reveal themselves at the edge of the forest, he dismissed him. He drew himself to his full height, eyes narrowed down at the four who had defied him. For a long moment, he simply gazed at them as if they were a distasteful curiosity. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer. His voice, soft and deep, echoed in the chamber around them.

“I wish to know… Have you ever been at leisure to choose not to carry out my will? When was it that my commands became negotiable with your whims?” The questions hung in the air for several moments, until one of them raised his head.

“We have wronged you, king Thranduil and for that we accept whatever judgment you see fit to bestow. As much as is deserved us, I beg you to hear what we must say.”

Thranduil raised a heavy, dark brow, amused that the elf seemed to think they could barter their fates with him. “You will submit to my judgment regardless,” Thranduil replied smoothly. “Your words will not change it.”

The elf shifted on his feet, lowering his head once more. “We do not seek to, my lord.”

Thranduil studied him thoughtfully, curiosity churning beneath his breast. Such news as whatever could drive one of his subjects to impertinence surely had some merit. Finally he said, “Then you may speak.”

The elf standing left of the speaker moved then, opening his cloak and pulling a bundle from its depths. He held it out for Thranduil to take but when the king made no move to accept, the speaker peeled away the folds and revealed the broken remains of Legolas’s bow.

Thranduil starred at it, transfixed in horror. Many thoughts played through his mind but none so crippling as that of having lost the one person remaining to him that he held close. He reached a shaking hand out to the shining wood but stopped before touching it. A voice, muffled to his ears, filtered into his mind and he realized he was being addressed again. Blinking once or twice, mouth slightly agape, he raised wide eyes to the speaker and the words sharpened in sound. He was telling about an encounter with an orc and Thranduil’s attention snapped back into focus.

“A full company?”

The elf beheld his king’s expression and cast his head down again, unable to withstand the terrible shock still lingering there even as curiosity took its place. “Haavelas sent word back to us, along with the prince’s bow, before continuing after them, my lord. He said they’ve planned to use Legolas in a march against the Greenwood.”

“He lives?” Thranduil dared not believe this. Legolas would only be so disarmed if he had been killed.

“We believe so. There was no trace found of him, save this sundered weapon and the orc spoke of a magic that concealed him. They’re intent on finding it. They marched into the Grey Mountains, believing the prince to have gone there. Whatever their plan is, they seek to make Legolas a part of it and they are still searching for him.”

Thranduil turned from them, processing this news. He gaze skipped from a lamp, to his throne, to the shadows beyond and all around as his mind worked furiously to weigh every option, its risks and its benefits and asked himself if he dared to oversee this personally. He took a few slow steps into the shadows his seat cast on the floor as he continued to ponder and folded his arms across himself. It was indeed strange for the orcs to march into the Gray Mountains. Stranger still was this magic that kept Legolas safe. It seemed unlikely that his son lived… Thranduil stopped and let a moment of sadness pass on his features while he was shielded from being witnessed again. Drawing a deep breath, he reminded himself that there wasn’t a better explanation for why a company of orcs was marching into the mountains north of the Greenwood. And if what the orc said was true, finding Legolas was now a matter of his kingdom’s security.

Certainty of what his next action must be brought quiet to the king’s mind. He straightened and dropped his hands at his sides before calling for his royal guard, standing vigilant and just out of sight as always.

When they appeared, he told them to ready themselves for departure and gave instructions for the compliment of their kin to make ready and join them. When that was done, he stepped toward the four of Haavelas’s guard and a brief flicker of gratitude graced his visage, though they could not see it – indeed Thranduil himself wasn’t quite aware of it. He could see the hope and relief in the profiles before him, however.

“You will join us. And when we’ve returned home, you will have a choice: banishment and to go where you will, or to serve as liaison on our trade route with the dwarves and to live in the settlement on the river banks. Whichever you choose, you will never again call these halls your home.”

If it were possible, the four dropped their heads even lower to bow in acknowledgement and as soon as they were dismissed, they made haste in their retreat to prepare for the journey ahead.

Thranduil watched them go, breathing deeply to still his heart against the swelling refrain his mind insisted on repeating, _My son may yet live…_

 

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“Everything is so different here.” Legolas peered out into the snowy night through a pane of glass. “Even the things that should be the same, they feel… different.”

Seren watched him from her place on the couch and picked pills from the snowflakes on her mother’s knitted throw that covered her lap. “Different how?”

Now that the injuries to his face weren’t so severe, she could see how fine his features were, the smooth pale skin seemed almost to glow in the firelight from the hearth. An ethereal otherworldly sense emanated from him. Even if she hadn’t witnessed the elf’s arrival, she would believe that he didn’t belong here. She had chosen to remain with her guest while her brother went back to his own house to secure it from the storm. She spared a brief thought for his safety and returned her attention to Legolas.

Legolas furrowed his brow and closed his eyes to the storm outside as he chose the words he felt would explain his meaning. Inward he searched, for many long moments as if he could will them to magically appear. _Magic…_

His eye snapped open. “Magic...” When he spoke, it was more to himself than Seren. It was an unpleasant revelation. He turned around, eyes wide. “I couldn’t put my finger on it before… There’s no _magic_ here.”

Seren had to clench her jaw to keep from smiling and pursed her lips as she stared at her lap. She accepted that he believed this to be true, though she wasn’t ready to accept it as a fact. Believing in magic was a stretch, despite the events of the evening. Even the portal she’d seen could have a sensible explanation – the theory of alternate realities was a scientific possibility, but _magic?_

“There’s magic in Middle Earth?” She asked with her gaze still down. She didn’t trust herself not to appear as though she were laughing at him.

Legolas blinked in surprise at the question. “It’s everywhere… It’s the soul of the world. Even those who cannot wield it, sense it. There are beings of many kinds who have gifts of magic. From the Ents to the Hobbits, we are all touched by it and we all know when it has been twisted. Your world has no magic… and there are shadows everywhere,” he added gravely.

Legolas let his thoughts trail off, trying to understand how a world so festered with shadow could stand to let anything thrive in it. More confusing was the resistance possessed by the humans, Seren and Tal. They weren’t the monsters that plagued his realm when shadow took hold of its inhabitants. In fact, such creatures were unknown to them.

A wave of dizziness passed over him then and he sat in the stuffed, comfortable chair nearby. He felt Seren’s eyes on him and he imagined she was likely at a loss for a reply.

“I’ve never beheld any tangible form of magic, Legolas,” she said carefully, as she watched from across the room. “Many peoples on Earth believe it’s possible, some even think they can perform such acts with rituals and talismans… but magic isn’t part of our reality. We find a sort of magic in making beautiful things and meeting good people. The joys of life are magic to us.”

“It is the same in Middle Earth,” Legolas replied and leaned forward eagerly. “Those moments of light are what strengthen the energies of all inhabitants of Middle Earth. Sometimes, the smallest gesture can have the greatest effect; bend the whims of fate so that tragedy is avoided. In those more powerful, their gifts require a great respect and humility for all things. When that is forgotten, the magic they wield becomes twisted and spreads shadows… And in turn it corrupts everything it touches. There is one being in my realm who became the greatest evil we’ve ever known and has brought much suffering to the world. His armies of orcs are among the foulest creations to roam the land.”

The ugly black monsters that she’d seen through the portal flashed through Seren’s mind and she asked, “Orcs? Those are what I saw chasing you?”

Legolas nodded once and stared at the flames in the hearth for a long moment before deciding to voice his most troubled thought. “I should be dead. Before I arrived here, I was battling them and their numbers were great. There was no end to them. I stood at the top of a sharply pointed hill. With so many around me, keeping them from fighting on foot seemed the only way to prevent being overtaken.”

His eyes lost focus as he delved into the memory further, almost hearing the clang of steel in his ears, the orcs’ foul decaying stench cloying in the air around him and feeling utter despair closing in once again.

“It was only a matter of time before one of them managed to reach me and I was too exhausted to match him…” Memories of gasping for air, his feet flailing for purchase as he was held aloft by the throat made him swallow reflexively. “My bow was snapped in front of me and tossed down the hill. I expected the killing blow then but he stayed his hand. He said his master had plans for me, that I was to lead them in war against my father. I managed to gather what strength I had left and strike him so that he released me.”

Still he stared into the flames, reliving those moments, trying to recall every detail. The jagged rock had jarred him when he landed and cut his face open as he’d been too weak to raise his hands to protect himself. With difficulty, he managed to pull his legs under him and crawled to pointed edge of the cliff and though the seething mass of orcs below wasn’t a welcome sight, he hoped to have enough time to get to his feet and run for it.

“I jumped from that precipice…” He looked at Seren again. She was patiently watching and waiting. She was sad for him he could see but also enthralled with his tale.

“I expected to fall onto half a dozen orcs and a moment later to be struck by a dozen more. But the impact never came.”

Realization dawned for Seren. “That’s when you came through.”

Legolas frowned in thought. “I remember falling and feeling the briefest moment of peace and when I expected pain and oblivion, light blinded me instead. And I was cold, so very cold. Then you were there.”

Suddenly he looked at her. “Why were you there?”

Seren fumbled a bit with the abrupt change in focus. “Oh I… I paint. Pictures, portraits, landscapes – that sort of thing; I went to my favorite clearing to try and capture the beauty of a winter’s night. I was making decent progress until you popped out of thin air.”

At this, Legolas felt a smile tug faintly on his features. “I’m sorry to have interrupted, but I’m glad you were there. I don’t imagine I would have survived the night, given the conditions now.” He said this last with a glance at the window and the swirling storm outside.

“I don’t imagine you would’ve survived lying in the snow either,” Seren said with a smirk. “No one ever goes up that far and I would have found your body the next time I came there to paint. It would have completely ruined the scenery for me and I would never have been able to paint there again.”

“Now _that_ would truly have been a tragedy,” Legolas agreed, smiling. He was glad to talk of things other than the orcs that had nearly captured him. “The painting you were working on,” Legolas said. “May I see it?”

Seren cast her eyes from him to the window before looking down a moment to steady herself and then looked upon him with strangely guarded expression. “We couldn’t collect my easel and supplies and carry you as well. And there wasn’t time to return to the clearing before the storm arrived. It has surely been destroyed by now.”

“I’m sorry,” Legolas said. It was clearly a terrible loss for her.

Before Seren could reply, a great cracking noise from outside ricocheted around the house. The sound of rending wood grew in pitch and something heavy fell against the edge of the roof, scraping the wall as it traveled to the ground and every lamp in the cabin went dark.

 

 


	5. New Arrival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shadows start creeping in...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this seems like filler stuff but I hope the necessity of the foreshadowing will become obvious soon. Thanks for reading!

Tal heard the tree cracking from his truck as he rolled slowly down the road and resisted the urge to increase his speed and reach Seren’s house faster. The road was all but gone in the feet of snow that blew across it and the wind pushed at him from different directions, nearly shoving him off the pavement. When he rounded the last corner and the cabin came into view, he nearly drove off the bend. He stopped for a moment and took in the sight of the tree that had been halved. One of the great pines was vertically split and the east facing half now lay in the yard. Several long branches were lying against the cabin. He also noted the absence of light from within his sister’s home and looked again to where the power lines would have joined the exterior and his stomach dropped to see no sign of them or the pole they were anchored to.

He continued along the meandering drive and, after a doubtful glance at the trees straining under the weight of snow, he parked in the yard, closer to the trees that were protected by the mountain and thus were less burdened. Seren would complain about the grooves in the soil but it seemed a small penance for saving his truck. Besides, he knew he’d probably be helping her till it for flowers in the spring.

For a moment he wondered if he could convince her to grow lemongrass this year. It was a pain to cultivate in California unless done in late spring to early summer and well watered, but he loved cooking with it. Seren loved eating the food he made with it. He’d have to remind her of this when they went on their first nursery trip of the year. A sudden whistle from the wind shook his thoughts of an edible garden from his mind and he sighed at the view of the distance between his truck and the house.

After gathering the bag he’d brought with him, he pushed the door open against a gale of bitter cold and struggled free of the vehicle. The wind howled at him angrily, as if personally offended that he dared to be out in it. He breathed easier once he was shielded from the worst of it by the front porch.

He didn’t knock. The scurrying he heard on the other side of the door told him Seren was busy and, through the window, he saw her rushing from a bedroom with a lit oil lantern. She was telling Legolas how the pipes would freeze if heat wasn’t restored to the cabin while the elf followed her around.

“The central heater provides most of the heat but with the power out, it won’t function. We have to light more fires to keep warm.”

“I saw the tree that took out the power lines,” Tal said as he entered the darkened kitchen.

His sister and Legolas stopped on their way to the next bedroom and looked at him. “Is it bad?” she asked.

“Half of one of the trees fell on the house. The lines are gone and I saw no sign of the pole.”

Seren groaned.

“It’ll be a while before you have electricity again. Why don’t you stay –”

“No, Tal,” Seren cut him off. “I’m not leaving my cabin to the elements. I have to keep fires lit or I’ll return to a mess and I’m not leaving them to burn unattended or I may have no home to return to at all.”

Tal sighed and dropped his bag on the table. “Yeah, I didn’t think you’d go for it. How can I help?”

Seren shook her head at her brother but kept her retort back. “I need more firewood from the cellar.”

She didn’t wait for him to acknowledge her demand and continued to the next hearth.

Legolas followed her, watching her work for a moment. “You have an admirable brother,” he said finally. “He only wishes to protect you.”

The human didn’t look at him as she wiggled the floo trap open and cold air rushed into the room.

“I know, but it’s unnecessary. I’ll be fine in the cabin if the fires are kept well-supplied. I’ll need to run into town at the first opportunity and get more firewood, however.”

A few minutes later, Tal arrived with a bundle of dry logs and set them down on the stone in front of the fireplace before heading to the next room and delivering a bundle there. “You’re running low on firewood, sis!” He called from across the hall.

“I know, Taliesin!” She called back and started placing logs in the grate. “The great storm of the week was done yesterday, remember? I’d have bought more if I expected another whiteout.”

“Seems odd,” Tal said and returned to the doorway, watching Seren light the logs. “This storm wasn’t on the forecast. And we’ve had far more snow than we usually get.”

The room erupted in dancing orange light, making Legolas flinch. The flames were a far more agreeable luminance for him, than the unnatural lamps had been. “So this… electricity… what is it? You called it power, before.”

Seren closed the screen to protect the room from flying embers and stood, thinking how best to explain. “It’s energy. It’s generated at a plant and delivered through long networks of cables.”

Legolas frowned. “A plant makes this power? Is it a type of tree? Or flower? I would like to see such crop as this!” It was incredulous! A plant that made this thing called power and lit homes? He wondered if it glowed with light like the Two Tress in tales of old.

“No, not a plant that grows,” Seren was quick to correct. “By ‘plant’ I mean a facility. It’s a man-made structure. Fuels are burned there but the fires are used to spin turbines – great metal wheels with magnets on them. The motion between the magnets and the metal housing they turn in causes an electrical current to be generated and great metal coils made of copper absorb that current. It’s carried to wires and travels along them and out to homes and other buildings everywhere.”

Legolas blinked. “I don’t understand. What manner of power is electricity?”

Seren sighed, and stared at her toes. How did one explain a concept to another who had no basis from which to understand? She stared into the flickering light on the floor as the wind howled outside and a thought struck her.

“You must have seen lightning?” She said, though she wasn’t sure he would know it by the same name.

Tal gestured they should leave the room and went first. The elf followed with an incredulous look on his face.

“Of course, but only during fierce storms.”

He stared at Tal’s back as he opened the wood stove and put smaller logs inside and set them on fire.

“That’s electricity,” Seren said as she followed into the room.

“You have harnessed the light of angry gods? No one has such magic.”

“It’s not magic. It’s engineering, science – there’s no magic to it.”

Legolas simply blinked at her.

“It’s a force of nature, yes; but we’ve learned to generate it so we have no need to harness the lightning from the sky.”

“It’s difficult to accept such a claim. I cannot fathom how you even thought to attempt such a thing or how it is possible. The light of angry gods is unpredictable, wild and chaotic. Yet you claim to have mastered it so well you can make your own?”

Tal closed the wood stove with a clang and orange light flickered into the room through the grate as he stood. He looked at the elf and said simply, “Yes.”

Legolas felt the room tilt again and pinched the bridge of his nose. He took a deep breath to clear his head before moving on to other questions.

Seren saw his lapse though and it worried her. His pallor greyed for a moment, as if a light inhabiting the flesh had dimmed and then returned, though ever so slightly faded. She kept the observation to herself for the moment as Legolas seemed to have found his tongue.

“You said fuels are burned to generate this… power?”

Seren let Tal continue the explanation with a wave of her hand. “Most plants burn coal or some other type of fossil fuel, some are nuclear –”

“It seems a lot of effort to make electricity,” Legolas interrupted. “Why doesn’t each home burn its own fuel for light and heat? Like this?” He gestured to the wood stove.

Seren ducked her head to hide her smile at her brother’s dumbfounded expression. It was not unlike the argument she’d made a couple years past to Taliesin when she’d gone without power for a week one winter. She could manage without electricity, though it was nice to have in order to read or paint during the dark hours.

Tal, ever ready to impart whatever knowledge he possessed, tried to explain. “Not every house is built with fireplaces – some have none at all – and the need for firewood would lead to an unsustainable consumption of trees. Businesses, our places of trade, aren’t designed to have fireplaces because fires are hazardous and the need for supervising and maintaining them is a cost that electricity eliminates. It’s safer and allows for greater productivity.”

Legolas stared wide-eyed at Seren's brother. “Not every home has a fireplace? Not even one? That’s madness! And these… businesses; what kind of trade do they offer that they’ve no need of fire?” Every trade he could think of – smiths, bakeries, butchers – had need of fire.

Tal shook his head and scowled at his now openly snickering sister.

“I think, Legolas,” she managed between giggles. “That this is something you’ll understand only once you’ve seen it.”

She glanced out the kitchen window and saw that the storm was dying down. Predawn was also upon them. “The sun will be up in a couple of hours. We should get some sleep. When we go into town, you will see for yourself what Tal is trying to say.”

Legolas let her escort him back to the room he had first awoken in. Despite the many questions still churning in his mind, he knew he’d have difficulty grasping anything they said and would only be further agitated by the impossible things they told him.

“I must admit I’m unsure I’m not dreaming all of this.” He sat on the bed and watched Seren throw another log on his fire. She stoked the embers under it until it caught and the room glowed brighter.

“I know.” She looked upon him sympathetically and bent to place a hand on his shoulder. “You don’t belong here,” she said somberly when he looked at her. “I see it on your face when you’re unwell. The dizzy spells you keep having.”

Legolas stiffened at the mention of his weaker moments. He’d thought they were from his head injury at first but as they continued, they grew stronger rather than fading as his injury healed. Now that he’d felt the life draining spells several times, he knew his head trauma wasn’t the cause.

“I fear this place is killing me.” Whether it was the shadows draining his light or the absence of magic, he didn’t know. He only knew that he was fading and it was happening faster as time wore on.

Seren gave his shoulder a squeeze and he looked up at her. “Tomorrow we will go to the clearing, see if we can’t figure out how to return you to Middle Earth.”

Legolas smiled sadly, though not without gratitude. The place he’d left was far less appealing than this little house in the woods but he needed to find a way home. “Thank you, Seren. But first, I would like to see the town you mentioned.”

“Of course.”

With one final pat, she released him and left the room, closing the door as she went. Legolas stared long at the fire in his hearth until the sky was just beginning to grey. He used to fire poker to flip the half burnt log over and tucked it deep into the embers before climbing under the covers and falling into a fitful sleep.

 

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Sheriff Drecker wandered into the only morgue in Big Bear, cradling his coffee in frigid hands. The basement of the hospital seemed little improvement over the weather outside. “Alright doctor Sunney, whaddaya got?”

He stopped where the man was hunched over a corpse and jumped back a second later, his bored expression replaced by one of shock and then disgust.

“Good morning sheriff!” Sunney said brightly.

The sheriff clapped a hand over his mouth and pointed. “What is that?”

Sunney shrugged. “If I knew I wouldn’t have consulted the federal medical records database.”

“You did what?!” Drecker glared at him.

Sunney at least felt abashed enough to blush. “Yeah… I was contacted about an hour ago and told to have you here by six. They’re sending agents to look at this.”

“Oh that’s just great!” Drecker glared at him for a long moment before looking again at the grotesque, bullet riddled figure on the slab. It stunk to high heaven, the skin was a dark grey color and the features were uneven and lumpy. It had no lips and barely enough cloth to call clothes covering its nether region.

“It was wandering the streets and some resident up the mountain called it in, scared half out of his mind and raving about it eating his dog. It came down from higher on the mountain apparently,” Sunney said. “Officer Brown responded with Ty and said they couldn’t reason with it – or him rather – and that they opened fire when he growled and ran at them swinging some rusty old blade. It took thirteen slugs before he stopped getting up. And... that was in his hands. X-rays indicate the rest is in the stomach." Sunney gestured to what looked like a canine leg, savagely torn to pieces on the bone but the white and brown spot pattern was definitely a match for Elias's dog. 

The sheriff was stepping closer, daring to look again when the doors to the room swung open and six men in suits filed in.

The one that entered first held out his open badge bearing “F.B.I.” on it and declared, “We need to see where you discovered this creature.”

 

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Legolas fiddled with the hair that covered his ears, frowning. It felt surreal to have his hair down like this. Seren refused to take him into town with his ears exposed. He could admit it was a sensible precaution. The humans here had never seen an elf and it would only raise questions. Still, he felt awkward with his blond tresses hanging loose. The hair concealed his ears admirably as long as he refrained from tucking it behind the pointed tips. The urge to do just that, however, was strong as the foreign sensation on the sensitive skin bothered him incessantly.

“Stop playing with it!” Seren said yet again from the front seat. She had to bite her cheek to keep from smiling when Legolas pointedly tucked his hands between his knees and tried to watch the passing scenery outside but didn’t bother to hide his displeased scowl.

They were in Tal’s truck and the roads were still snowed over so the trip was a slow one. Legolas wasn’t used to being in the vehicle yet and it felt strange in his every limb to be moving without any effort on his part. The sound of engine turning over had startled him when he first heard it. He smiled to himself when he recalled that he had foolishly thought it sounded like some sort of animal and had prepared for an attack. He shouldn’t have been surprised to learn these humans didn’t use animals for anything either. Like the rest of this world, the oddity of the vehicle was a constant hum against his senses, but he was happy to be sheltered from the cold. A part of his mind couldn’t accept the unnatural motion however, but he squashed it down because his curiosity was greater.

As the scenery blurred before him, his head began to feel strange again but it was unlike the previous times. Then he realized his stomach felt odd. “How much longer?” He suddenly couldn’t sit still. His breakfast wasn’t sitting well with him. He was sweaty and he had to keep swallowing.

Seren glanced at him, a laugh ready to answer him but her mirth died when she saw his colorless face. “Tal, pull over.”

Taliesin started to protest but Seren raised her voice at him the second time, panic edging her tone so he stopped and set the brakes. She was out and halfway around the vehicle by the time he realized Legolas was about to be sick.

He scrambled out to open the door just as Seren came around and she tugged the elf toward the edge of the road where he retched pitifully. His eyes were wide, as if surprised with the phenomenon of being sick. Thankfully the road was not a well-traveled one and with the snow covering it, it was deserted save for them. Tal reached under the seat for a towel and bottle of water and handed them to his sister.

Being out in the air soothed Legolas’s nerves and his stomach soon quieted. He took the water and downed a few gulps gratefully – noting but not caring that it also tasted strange – and accepted the towel to dry his mouth. “I don’t think I like riding in an… automobile,” he said shakily.

Tal chuckled nervously and scrubbed at the back of his neck. “It may take some getting used to. We’re not far from town. If you prefer, you can walk. It’s less than two miles from here.” He looked at his sister who nodded and gave Legolas’ shoulder a reassuring rub.

“I’ll walk with you.”

“And I’ll drive along the road – slowly,” Tal added.

Legolas looked from one to the other, feeling once again an incredible gratitude that the humans who had found him in this world were kind. “Thank you. I think I’d like that.”

 

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Drecker and the F.B.I. agents exited their vehicles and surveyed the road ahead of them. It was completely lost in the snow. Even the footprints of the creature that had been found here were gone.

“We were responding to a report of a suspicious figure out here,” Drecker said to the agents as they walked deeper into the snow. “We don’t know where he came from but he was reported by Elias Jones, one of the few residents higher up on the mountain.”

“How high up the mountain is that exactly?” The agent in charge asked but didn’t turn to address the cop. He scanned the landscape as if clues would just jump out of the snow.

“It’s a few miles up this pass. It kind of boggles the mind that anyone could have made it that far down the mountain in the storm last night, without kicking over from the cold.” Drecker thought it was a waste of time to try finding anything at this time. Even the blood and bullet shells from the night before were gone.

“Yes…” the agent agreed. “Very strange indeed.”

The sound of an engine idling low and tires crunching the snow reached them and all six agents jerked up from their explorations and looked at each other. They didn’t speak but seemed to be communicating all the same. Drecker shivered at their creepy behavior as they all stepped back from the bend simultaneously and slipped inside their black SUV.

The vehicle that appeared was one Drecker knew well. No one else in Big Bear had a truck that made his all-terrain SUVs look like remote control toys and Drecker’s hackles rose as the dark blue monstrosity rolled right over what was essentially an investigation scene. He raised a hand for the truck to stop.

“Taliesin Evans…” He drawled as he walked up to the driver’s window.

Tal lowered the glass and greeted the sheriff. “Good morning Drecker.” He glanced at his rear view and saw Seren and Legolas through the trees as they walked in the tracks his truck made. Drecker saw them too when their voices carried to him.

“Hey there, Seren!” The Sheriff offered a friendly wave. She waved back and the person beside her awkwardly responded in kind a second later.

“So what brings you down the mountain? The roads are snowed over and half the town is closed,” Drecker said.

“My power lines were taken out by the storm last night,” Seren said, coming to a stop by the rear axle of Tal’s truck. “I need more firewood if I’m going to keep my pipes from freezing.”

Drecker glanced toward the agents hidden in their vehicle, thankful they weren’t interfering. _Yet…_ He looked at the blond man next to Seren and something about him made the cop want to stare. He was definitely a strange one – that much he could see – but he couldn’t put his finger on what made him think so.

“Haven’t you called the utilities to come out and fix the lines? It seems a bit odd to trek into town on these roads.”

Seren smiled. He was being obtuse on purpose. “Come on, Drecker; you know they won’t be able to get up here until the plow comes through and they’ll clear the town first. It’ll be days before I have power back.”

“You said half the town was closed?” Tal asked.

Drecker raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry. Smith still opened his shop this morning. You’ll be able to get your firewood.”

“Oh good!” Seren breathed out a sigh of relief. Then a thought struck her. “Wait… Why are you out here Sheriff?” She took in the sight of the Sheriff’s SUV and the other black SUV. She’d never seen it before.

Drecker pulled himself up as tall as he could stand – though he grumbled internally that he still barely came to Seren’s nose. It didn’t stop him from trying to come off as intimidating and important, however.

“This section of the road is part of an investigation. Last night your neighbor, Elias Jones called us about a suspicious figure lurking in his yard. He also reported his Great Dane, Bruce missing. By the time we reached this part of the road, it was snowed over.”

“Did you find this suspicious figure?” Tal asked because it wouldn’t be impossible that Elias called in a report rather than admit he left his dog outside to freeze to death.

“We did,” Drecker said with a nod. “He came down the mountain, right through here, with… um…” Drecker swallowed and steeled himself. “He had one of Bruce’s legs… and was… eating it.”

Seren gasped and covered her mouth and Tal’s eyes fell closed for a second.

“What did this suspicious figure look like?” Legolas spoke to Drecker for the first time since they’d stopped.

The cop regarded him warily. The stranger seemed far too interested for his liking. “I’m really not at liberty to say. We came back here to assess the night’s encounter and this truck; Taliesin just might have rolled over important evidence.”

Tal immediately apologized but Seren wasn’t having that. “Why wasn’t the road blockaded? Or an alert put out advising people it was closed?”

The cop chuckled without humor. “For one, Ms. Evans, these roads are impassible to everyone else. We weren’t expecting any traffic through here. And two, we’d only just arrived when you came around the bend. Look, there won’t be any trouble but I must insist that you not come back this way for a few hours while we look everything over.”

“I have fires burning at home!” Granted they were purposely smothered in ash so that they burned low but she wanted to return before they went out and her cabin went cold.

“I’m sorry,” Drecker said and he did mean that. “But we have to investigate this area.”

“Seren,” Tal called to her. It was a gentle admonition not to argue. Drecker could forcibly keep them away if he wanted and he didn’t like the look of the other black SUV or the cop’s use of ‘we’. Something told him to just get away from this area. His sister’s house wouldn’t be helped if they were thrown in lock up for twenty four hours because the sheriff decided they were impeding an investigation.

Finally she nodded and turned to continue walking but Drecker stopped them again.

“I must admit, I’m curious as to why you’re walking?”

Seren opened her mouth to answer but Legolas raised his hand. “It’s my fault. I don’t like traveling by automobile.”

“It makes him sick,” Seren added with a nervous smile, hoping the elf wouldn’t say more.

“And you are…?” Drecker eyed the strange man again. His skin had an unnaturally pale complexion but it wasn’t colorless. He would swear it was almost pearlescent. The evident injuries to his face also piqued his curiosity but they looked well along in healing so he didn’t mention them.

“My name is Legolas Gr –”

“He’s my friend from Montana,” Seren added hastily. She tugged on the back of Legolas’s borrowed coat, silently urging him to leave. “He’s visiting.”

Drecker thought that sounded unlikely but he had no good reason for his suspicions. “Do they not have cars in Montana? How do you get around?”

“On foot or horseback,” Legolas answered as though it should be obvious. He couldn’t understand why the reply made Seren groan under her breath, however.

Drecker brightened. “Oh! Do you live on a cattle ranch?” Being from Texas, the sheriff often waxed poetic about his youth at his uncle’s cattle farm during his off time at the bar to any who would listen.

Legolas frowned, unsure what answer was expected of him. He nervously reached for his hair, tucking it behind an ear and then pulling it back as he remembered he was supposed to keep them hidden. Another tug on his back made him settle for simply agreeing. “Yes, a cattle ranch... We must go.”

With that, he pivoted on a heel and strode past Tal’s truck, continuing down the road.

“That boy’s an odd one,” the Sheriff said as Seren followed after her friend.

Tal shrugged. “Well, you know how it is, growing up on a ranch. There’s nothing outside of that world. From sunup to sundown, life is about tending the herd. Legolas just isn’t used to being away.”

Drecker nodded and grunted his understanding. That was why he left after all. He clapped a hand on Tal’s truck and sent him off.

 

 

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The landscape before him made Thranduil’s skin crawl. Behind him was the edge of the Greenwood – he refused to use the moniker his forest had been given when Sauron moved into his southern lands and turned the trees foul. Sadness swelled in his heart for a brief moment when he thought how very far any hope of restoring his realm seemed. He let go of the sentiment for the present as he had more pressing concerns. After two days of travel, he was about to leave his kingdom and enter a place that no elf could flourish in. In fact, some of his company had already been forced to turn back as the poisonous shadows made them too weak to continue. The influence of Morgoth’s servant was strong here and many of the Silvan elves couldn’t bear it.

_Another of their inferiorities..._

“My lord!” One of his royal guards called from a distance and began approaching him. He seemed almost eager.

Thranduil kicked his horse into a trot. The gait was wrong as he was used to riding his great elk but until another had reached maturity to replace its predecessor, he made do with an equine mount.

“Our scouts report no orcs in the area for the moment,” his guard said when he was near enough.

“Then now is as good a time as any,” the elvenking declared. He turned to address the company of his kin. “You all know my commands. We are entering orc territory to search for Legolas. It is hoped that he can be found and retrieved alive and well, but should you find him and he has been corrupted…” He paused to still his heart for his next words, hardly able to believe he had to say them. “You are to grant him the mercy of a swift and dignified end.”

Thranduil swallowed hard against the imagery his words evoked and breathed deep. “Though he is my son; if he lost to us, he would not wish to be made to serve the Enemy. He would die rather than slay his kin. Any orc you meet you are to kill on sight. Be always on your guard. This is their land and you will find no second chances here.”

Every elf around Thranduil clapped a fist over their heart and bowed slightly, each one heartily willing to give life and limb to rob the orcs of their prize and thwart their plans. There wasn’t an elf alive that didn’t relish foiling the Orcs. Thranduil took comfort in that. If some never made it back to the kingdom, he knew their deaths would have purpose.

The four who had gone with Haavelass were sitting quietly to his left and he turned to them now, his expression still as stone and equally as cold. “Lead the way.”

They commanded their mounts to move and Thranduil followed behind as the group cantered to the front of their company and began the trek into outer reaches of Gundabad.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. A Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas gets to learn more about the world he's in and Seren begins to understand the evil of orcs.

“What is that hanging light?” Legolas pointed to something beyond the windshield. He and Seren had returned to the truck at the edge of town when the roads became too slushy to traverse on foot. The sickness he experienced before didn’t seem to trouble him now that there were things to see besides trees.

“It’s a street light. It controls traffic so people don’t drive into one another,” Tal said.

The light was red but changed to green as they approached. They were too far off to make it in time, however. Legolas stared at it.

“It changed colors! What does that mean?"

“Green means it’s our turn to go. Red, of course means we must stop.”

“And the golden hue?” Legolas asked as the light changed to yellow.

“It’s a warning for us to slow and prepare to stop.”

The light went red again and Tal let the accelerator up. Without traffic coming from the other direction, it quickly went green and they rolled under it. Legolas craned his head as far forward as he could as they passed and then whipped around to watch it from behind.

The truck turned and the light disappeared from view so he turned forward again and his jaw dropped open a bit. A stretch of road rolled before them, filled with structures all packed tightly at the edges of the pavement. More color changing lights filled the expanse of the window’s view and some buildings were brightly lit, some with garish blinking signs and others with carved wooden plaques that were illuminated from the ground by strong lights.

Some of the structures were dark, however as they had remained closed like Drecker said. Still there was much to see. To Legolas, the town of Big Bear resembled most human towns in many ways but there were differences he’d never seen before. The hanging lights and signs were the most eye-catching and he stared at each one as they drove past before coming to a stop at a building with sign declaring it as “Smith’s General Store”.

Legolas got out as soon as the vehicle stopped and gazed around, turning in slow circles to take everything in. Some buildings were wooden, some were stone and others were constructed of materials he’d never seen before. Most were larger than the average town structure in Middle Earth. Taverns were usually the only establishments that had a second floor. Homes were also larger than what he expected. The streets branching off of the main thoroughfare were lined with dwellings two or three times the size of most human homes in his world, and yet they were rather plain and all made the same. Some were dirty and bore scars of disrepair. Strangest of all was that humans here seemed to have traded an expanse of fields for larger walls.

The streets were dotted with what he suspected was refuse. Small pieces of paper-like litter drifted past on the occasional breeze. There were also no animals. The smells and sounds of livestock was a mainstay of any human town in Middle Earth and the lack of them here was a constant dissonance against his mind. It wasn’t what he expected of a human settlement, yet he wasn’t all that much surprised.

The townsfolk were also quite different from what he knew. They simply walked to their destinations with no attention paid to those they passed. More than once, Legolas found himself catching another’s gaze and offered a friendly nod only to receive a wary blink in return as they hurried on.

He looked at Seren, confusion pinching his features. “They don’t seem very welcoming.”

She smiled and took his elbow, guiding him toward Smith’s. “Most people are simply going about their day and wish to finish the tasks they must. Stopping to greet neighbors or take in one’s surroundings isn’t common, especially in this weather.”

They were upon the door of the store and she opened it for him, gently nudging him inside. His frown deepened with confusion. “To not be acknowledged by your own people… It seems a lonely existence.”

Seren didn’t answer that and followed him inside the store. He blinked against the glare coming from the lights in the ceiling and his nose began to itch from an untold number of scents. He could pick out stone, wood, wool and some herbs among the cacophony but so many others were beyond his reckoning.

There were rows of shelves packed with items and he guessed these were Smith’s wares. His eyes widened at the sheer size and variety of the display. Tal approached him but Legolas took off down an aisle, leaving the tall human to follow after him. He quickly reached the end and turned around to the next row of shelves. Walking fast, his eyes flickering over the many platforms with goods on them, he reached the end again and turned down the next row. When he reached the end of that aisle, he stopped and stood in the main walkway. His gaze traveled the length of the store, lined with still more rows of shelves and he felt a little giddy.

“I’ve never seen a merchant with so many wares in one place!”

Seren was busy talking to Smith but they both looked up when they heard him. Smith shook his bushy gray head, scowling from a withered old face but his eyes crinkled a little in amusement.

Tal chuckled and followed as the elf strode along each aisle, his loose hair a forgotten concern as it swirled around him with very turn. Every now and then, Legolas would stop to point at something and ask questions. Sometimes he simply picked an item up and stared at it strangely before placing it down. More than once Tal had to stand the items Legolas examined back up as they were set down with such haste when they were abandoned for the next thing to be perused.

When Legolas finished the exploring the aisles, he made a beeline for the far side where racks of firewood, furniture and a vast assortment of home decorating and maintenance items were standing. Suddenly he stopped and turned to stare at the back wall. His eyes were round and his mouth slightly agape. Slowly he stepped forward.

Tal looked and immediately saw what had so enthralled their friend. A white pelt the size of a blanket was hung from a rod on the wall. It was nearly twice as wide as a man’s arm span and almost longer than Taliesin was tall. It was a brilliant soft white. The hairs shone with a silver and gold luminance deepening to the color of pale vanilla at the roots. The sign next to it declared it as a spirit bear pelt. Legolas reached out and stroked the fur, surprised at how soft it was to the touch.

He breathed out heavily as the hairs whispered over his fingers. Tal came to stand beside him and he glanced at the human.

“I was reminded of my father…”

The elvenking was fond of splendor and this pelt, as white as the driven snow, would have been quite at home in his father’s chambers – or on his shoulders. Winter was coming to the Greenwood. Something practical and as grand as this pelt would make a fine gift for Thranduil. But he had no currency here. He wasn’t sure he understood what the four numbers on the label amounted to but he knew it was the price being asked. Legolas lowered his head as his thoughts sobered and gently took his hand away from the fur.

Smith stood behind his counter, watching and waiting. The pelt wasn’t cheap and most prospective buyers tried to argue for a garage sale bargain. It had soured more than one of his friendships in Big Bear.

Tal caught his gaze for a moment and nodded. Then, before Legolas’s startled expression, he started unclipping the expanse of fur from its rod, careful not to let it touch the floor. His height was an advantage in that. He neatly folded it and carried the large bundle to the counter.

Smith watched as Tal approached. The time for haggling had come. The pelt was set gently in front of him and he met the younger man’s gaze. They simply stared across the counter, each waiting for the other man to speak.

“Well, ring it up Smith,” Tal said when the silence stretched too long.

The proprietor blinked and took the bank card being held out to him. “That fur has been hanging on my wall for years,” he said as he rang up the purchase. “I was beginning to think I’d be buried with it.” He handed the piece of plastic back and took the pelt to the table behind him for wrapping.

When it was returned, he handed it to Legolas. “One thing to remember: Never wash it in a machine.”

Legolas stared in wonder and looked between Tal and Seren. “I’ve nothing to offer in return,” he said as he took the package.

Tal smiled. “It’s a gift. Think of it as a souvenir of your time here.”

“Thank you.” He stared at it fondly. He looked at Smith then and gave the tiniest bow before heading out the door after Seren.

They stored the pelt and Seren’s firewood in Tal’s truck before walking to the farmer’s market across the street. The little grocer frequently stocked fresh produce from the farms that surrounded the base of the mountains and there was plenty of food Legolas found agreeable there so they put together a lunch at one of the tables in the eatery near the entrance and ate a meal in companionable silence. Legolas thanked them each for the fur of the Spirit bear and insisted he would repay them somehow but neither of them would hear of it.

After lunch was done, the trio returned to the streets. Legolas had questions about everything; what every sign meant, why there wasn’t snow in the street here like there was at Seren’s cabin and why homes were so big and the yards so small. The bar at the end of the main drag was a particular curiosity. The noises and smells coming from it were as repulsive as they were intriguing. The hard thump of jukebox rock and roll could be felt through their feet as they approached.

Tal and Legolas went inside but moments after they entered, they came back out. Tal was following Legolas who had his hands clamped over his ears and was coughing and gagging, his nose scrunched and brow pinched. He straightened and breathed deep of the fresh air.

The elf met Seren’s gaze a look of disgust on his features. “People go there for leisure?”

Seren laughed. “Some do.”

“The taverns of Middle Earth are far less caustic than that place. How do you stand it?” He blinked to help clear the sting of smoke still in his eyes.

“We don’t,” Tal said, chuckling. “Come on, I think you’ll like our next stop.”

The next stop was a tourist shop. It was the sort of place visitors could buy maps and fill their pockets with free brochures that advertised Big Bear’s attractions. Being a ski and camping destination meant there was seasonal traffic so, of course, there were themed trinkets of every variety and shelves stocked with over-priced snacks.

Legolas took a moment to appreciate the store’s decorated interior. Christmas had been a couple of weeks ago but the little faux cabin still had its tree and lights up. The fake presents drew his attention and he shook each of the shining packages in turn. His reflection stared back out at him from dozens of shiny little spheres and he poked a red globe, watching it sway back and forth.

When he turned his attention from the tree, he saw a rack with books on it. Only these books sported images on their covers that he couldn’t fathom. He rushed over to them and pulled one from its nook.

“What is this place?” He pointed at the image of what looked to be a tall building. It was far taller than any he’d seen save for the towers and castles of Middle Earth. But these strange buildings were perfectly straight, some with smooth lines, and reached far higher than any design he’d ever laid eyes on. What most took his attention was that there were so many of them! All tightly packed together.

“That’s Los Angeles,” Seren told him. “It’s the nearest major city.”

Legolas stared intently at her. “There are other… ‘major cities’?”

“Of course.”

She rummaged through the rack until she found the big book she was looking for. She pulled it out and Legolas stared at the cover. A collage of famous images of New York, Chicago, Los Angeles, St. Louis, Washington D.C. and many others were displayed there.

He set the other book down and gently took the larger tome from Seren and opened it. The page that it opened to was about she said was called Detroit, Michigan and he stared at the numerous tall structures pictured there. Seren pointed out the smaller images of the attractions within the city, like Hart Plaza and the Henry Ford museum, something called a people mover and an arena she called Commerica Park where sporting events took place.

He flipped through the book and opened to another city. It was New York. He smiled for having recognized it from the cover. It was even larger than Detroit and had many more buildings that seemed to scrape the heavens themselves. A picture of a green statue piqued his curiosity and when he asked about it, Seren told him it was the ‘Statue of Liberty’ and she went on to describe its significance.

When she told him about the underground network of tunnels called the subway, he blurted, “Could we go there?”

Seren paused. “Well… New York is very far from here. It would take days to travel there.”

“It’s getting dark,” Tal said suddenly.

Legolas and Seren glanced out the window and frowned.

“It’s too early for nightfall,” Seren said.

“Do you hear that?” Legolas asked them. He seemed to be listening to something only he could pick up.

Seren watched him for a moment before looking at her brother. “We should get back to my cabin. The fires have probably gone cold by now.”

She took the big book and grabbed a bag of jerky and can of tea, ringing them up hastily. Tal and Legolas followed suit a moment later with selections of their own and they left the shop. They had to gather their coats close about them as a bitter wind had started up. Suddenly the truck seemed very far away as they put their heads down and trudged forward. Just as they reached the vehicle, Seren’s head perked up.

“Sirens…”

“I hear them too,” Tal said.

He opened the doors and they had all climbed inside and shut them against the cold when the sirens grew louder.

“They’re coming this way,” Legolas said. If it was possible, the sky darkened even more as he uttered those words. There didn’t appear to be more clouds than there had been before. It was like the sun had dimmed.

The wail of the sirens reached a new pitch. Tal started his truck and backed out of their spot in time to see the flashing lights come around the bend. What seemed like every police SUV in Big Bear cruised past them, followed by every cruiser. Mysteriously, they slowed as they approached the light but a second later, the snow plow came into the intersection from a different direction and turned in front of the police vehicles and lead the way out of town.

“They’re going up the mountain!” Seren looked at Tal in a panic.

He didn’t need to be asked. He put his truck in gear and took after the entourage of blue and red light.

Legolas had many questions but he didn’t think it was the right time to ask them. With every turnoff they passed and the higher up the mountain they traveled, Seren fretted about the likelihood of her cabin being the reason for the police response. His stomach also started to rebel against the motion of the vehicle so he focused on breathing deeply and calming his nerves. The journey took far less time with the plow leading the way and soon they passed the last street that offered an inlet of homes. This high up, few people dwelled in groups. Only the occasional house stood by the roadside now.

They were almost back to Seren’s cabin when they rounded a bend and found a barricade on the road right before her driveway. The police vehicles were allowed through immediately but Tal’s truck was waved to a stop and a deputy approached them.

Tal and Seren didn’t wait for the cop to reach them. Legolas followed a moment behind as they exited the truck and confronted the man.

“I’m sorry folks, but you have to go back –”

“My home is up there!”

The deputy fixed Seren with sad gaze. “I know Ms. Evans but you can’t return just now. We have a situation.”

“A situation? Where’s Drecker?” She took off past the deputy and walked deeper into the midst of flashing light, calling for the sheriff.

She heard him before she saw him.

“I don’t care about privacy laws! Get me that number!”

Seren rounded an SUV and found the man all but chewing on his phone. When he saw her, he slumped and rolled his eyes. “Never mind!” He yelled at the person on the other end before hanging up and pocketing the cell.

“Drecker,” Seren said.

Tal and Legolas had come up behind her and stared at Drecker as he started to explain.

“I’ve been trying to reach you. We have situation –”

“So I heard,” she quipped.

“It involves your cabin –”

“I figured as much,” she cut him off again. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Just then, a man in a suit stepped from around the far side of the SUV and handed Seren a picture. She gasped at the image, not because of the grotesque figure in it but because she recognized it. An orc lay dead on a morgue slab. It was a clearer picture than what she saw in the portal Legolas arrived through but it was unmistakably an orc.

Legolas felt his gut clench. He wasn’t the only one to make it through to this world after all. He was on the verge of speaking up when he felt Tal place a hand on his shoulder. When he looked at the man, a warning was in his eyes. Tal shook his head imperceptibly and Legolas understood so he kept his thoughts to himself.

“Have you seen anything like this roaming around?” The man in the suit finally asked after watching Seren’s reaction closely.

“It’s disgusting.” She covered her mouth with a hand and held the picture for The Suit to take. “What is it?”

“We don’t know,” Drecker said. “We think he’s from some isolated mountain tribe farther into the peaks of the mountains.”

“A tribe?” Taliesin stepped forward, dropping his hand from Legolas’s shoulder. “I’ve never heard of any tribe in these mountains except the Serrano people.”

“Who knows what’s up in those mountains?” Drecker shrugged.

“What does this have to do with my house?” Seren crossed her arms and scowled at the cop and the Suit.

The Suit actually blinked and shared a glance with Drecker. “This… individual wasn’t alone. There are others. When we tried to apprehend them, they fled and took refuge in your cabin, with Elias as a hostage.”

Words failed Seren for a moment. She didn’t like Elias but he didn’t deserve whatever attention these creatures would surely visit upon him. Her arms fell to her sides while her mind absorbed this information.

“You must drive them out!” Legolas stepped forward, glaring at the men.

“And you are?” The Suit regarded him coolly.

“A friend,” Legolas shot back.

“We’re doing everything we can. We’ve got a negotiator on hand to see if we can talk them down. I need a number where you can be reached and I promise I’ll call you as soon as it’s safe,” Drecker said. He seemed to think he was placating them.

“Talk to them?” Legolas looked on the verge of laughing and scoffing.

Seren didn’t answer and stormed down the driveway to her house. Vaguely she heard the Suit yell for her to stop but she didn’t heed him and no one actually tried to stop her as she wove her way between the trees. A few moments later, she heard Tal and Legolas jogging to catch up. The yard was brilliantly lit by the multitude of flashing police cars and she saw her cabin through the trunks and branches, surrounded by officers. Most were huddled behind the open doors of their vehicles or riot shields as arrows occasionally flew toward them.

When she reached the edge of the tree line, she kept just outside of the clearing and circled around until she could approach behind the opened doors of a large SUV. Tal and Legolas slipped into position behind her and the cop taking shelter behind the front door looked back at them in alarm.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

“This is my house!”

She would have said more but a scream diverted her attention to the front window. The glass was shattered and she could see dark, deformed shapes moving about behind the other windows. Some were holding firewood that had been lit and several small flames danced around the windows as the curtains were set ablaze.

“They’re going to burn my house down!” The urge to run into the cabin and put out the fires made standing still difficult but another scream put that out of her mind as figures appeared in front of the living room window.

The screams had come from Elias, held hostage in the grip of an orc. He was bleeding from many wounds and his clothes had been slashed in places where strips of skin seemed to be missing. Dressed in only jeans and a gray thermal shirt, he shivered though cold or shock could have been equally likely as the reason. His right hand bled from many stumps where fingers had been and his right ear was missing.

The orc laughed and licked at the blood trickling from the absent ear as everyone watched. Seren felt she might be sick and anger began to burn in her belly.

“Give us the prince and you may have this pathetic human returned to you alive!” He gripped a fistful of black curls and positioned a familiar knife to Elias’s remaining ear and the man screamed again.

“That’s one of my daggers!” Legolas whispered harshly in Seren’s ear. “He’s here for me.”

“You’re a prince?” Tal asked.

“Oh of all the - Taliesin!” Seren admonished her brother. “How could they know you were here?” She looked at Legolas, worry creasing her brow.

“They have keen senses.” He nodded toward the orc with elvish blade in his hand. “I never should have left my knives here.”

“It’s not like you knew you had been followed when we left them behind.”

One of the officers stood up and shouted across the distance, “What prince are you referring to?”

“The elfling that ran from us with his tail between his legs! I’m not a fool. He has been here. Where does he hide now? I will not wait much longer…” To make his point, the orc put pressure on the blade and Elias began to whimper as fresh blood oozed from the cut.

“Your neighbor will be killed if I don’t show myself!” Legolas hissed. He would not hide like a coward while these creatures tortured this man.

A crash drew everyone’s attention toward the kitchen where orcs were rummaging through the pantry and fridge. The sound of breaking glass had come from an oil lamp and an orc that held a torch was suddenly engulfed in flame. Elias took the opportunity of the distraction to break free and stumbled from the house. An arrow suddenly appeared in his leg and he went down screaming and clutching at it.

Seren watched in horror as the kitchen started to glow brighter with the flickering light of flames. “No…”

“Get a fire engine here NOW!” Drecker appeared with the Suit following close behind.

The engulfed orc stumbled to the end of the kitchen and out the front door and immediately the assembled cops began firing their weapons at him. He turned away from the hail of bullets, trying to take shelter by the side of the cabin.

Drecker called for them to stop as the figure drew near to the propane tank but he continued to shuffle forward.

“Stop him!” Seren stepped forward, but Legolas and Tal pulled her back as an arrow from the far side of the cabin whizzed past.

The orc staggered into the propane tank and finally fell to the snow covered ground. His body still burned and the flames licked higher as they cooked more of the orc’s flesh. Someone yelled for an extinguisher and several people pulled red canisters from their cars but were stopped as more arrows rained down on them.

Legolas scanned the trees behind the cabin and could see a dozen or more orcs hiding there. Around him, he could hear the others shouting.

“There’s too many!”

“They’re in the trees!”

“We have to put that fire out!”

“What’s taking that fire truck?”

The white paint on the tank started to bubble and melt…

Seren couldn’t take her eyes from the tank even as she wished and hoped for the fire to die down in the snow.

The sound of new sirens could be heard coming up the pass and the noise distracted the orcs. A brave officer with an extinguisher ran toward the tank but was tossed back violently when the propane canister rocked the ground as it finally exploded. A half second later, the gas lines running through the cabin followed. Heat and bits of wood flew out in every direction as Seren’s house was blown to pieces.


	7. Looming Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The F.B.I. Suits have started to make their move. The destruction of Seren's cabin was only the beginning of the challenges to be faced. And they must be confronted, for more innocent lives become caught in the events unfolding on Seren's mountain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took so long. I had soooo much ground I wanted to cover and I've managed only a portion of it! I realize it's a bit wordy but I did whittle it down after several proof reads and edits, which take a while when work is crazy busy. The next installment is already partially written as it was part of this chapter but I decided it was already too long. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

The journey over the rocky terrain that surrounded the Grey Mountains was a slow one. Gundabad was one of the most inhospitable regions and the horses were struggling to find sure footing. After a day’s travel into the wasteland, Thranduil commanded that all mounts be sent back. The last thing he needed was dealing with an animal gone lame. That’s how he came to be among those leading their hike on foot over the black rocks. With every new rise he crested, the barren landscape offered only more of the same green-tinged sky and jagged black ground.

They’d been following the legion of orcs from a distance but now it seemed clear that the orcs weren’t sure where they were going. Whatever magical barrier they thought Legolas hid behind, they seemed to think it didn’t remain in one place as groups were left to stand guard in certain places as the remainder traveled onward.

Thranduil had commanded a couple of his own groups to stay and watch those groups. His company of twenty was now only eight. Though many of his kin never said as much, he knew their thoughts mirrored his own: they had traveled too far north and likely passed Haavelas. They would have to go back. The ebony mountains fell away in the distance though and Thranduil wanted to at least see what, if anything, lay beyond that ridge so they continued northeast for a while longer.

The day wore on, unchanging without the light of a sun to tell them how much time had passed. They all felt it anyway. They were becoming weary and would soon need to stop. A gap in the rocky landscape offered hope of a cave to rest in and Thranduil ordered two of his guard to head in that direction.

When the advance of elves disappeared into the little clearing, the sounds of clanging metal erupted a few moments later.

“Make haste!” The king ordered to the rest of his party and took off down the rocky hill at a run.

He entered the mouth of the clearing to see his guard barely holding off the attack of seven orcs in front of a cave. He wasted no time jumping into the fray and took down a pair from behind before they were aware more elves had arrived. The remaining five were no match for the elves’ greater numbers and soon lay dead on the rocks.

Thranduil turned to the advance elves he had sent. “How is it you were so easily ambushed?” Anger was fueling his harsh words but he had promised himself he wouldn’t spend more elf blood on the endeavor to retrieve his son than was absolutely necessary and this was nearly an unnecessary loss.

“Forgiveness, my lord,” they both said and bowed.

“When we entered this clearing, there was nothing. Then a flicker of light came from the cave and orcs came rushing forth from where there had previously been none.”

Thranduil peered toward the cave’s maw and saw a faint golden light shimmering on the rock. Slowly he stepped toward the gap in the wall, his heart thumping madly as he expected more orcs to pour from it any second. It was irrational he knew, for his senses detected no scent or sound from the cave that reeked of orc. Instead, a strange tang filled the air and grew stronger the closer he came to it. When he finally reached the edge of the cave, he found himself staring at an empty crevasse; empty save for a golden pool of light, flickering in the air twenty paces away.

Startled, he stepped back and almost into his guard. Every elf present had crept up behind him and all gazed wide-eyed at the disc of light.

“What is it?”

“This is what the orcs were guarding?”

The disc rippled and the image of orcs passing by rolled across the surface. Everyone but Thranduil tucked themselves behind the rocky walls of the cave’s entrance. He stared from one group to the other and looked back to the mirage. It was once again clear.

“They’ve gone.”

He studied the picture in it and his brows drew together as a vista of a sunny winter day shone from it. Full of snow-blanketed pine trees and white capped mounds of rich brown soil, the landscape beyond was a stark contrast to his current surroundings. Yet there was something flat about the image, though he couldn’t quite narrow down what it was.

His feet seemed to develop a mind of their own as they began to carry him into the cave. His guard followed close behind advising him not to go first but Thranduil paid no heed.

“Curious…” he said when he reached the anomaly. He stared around it, finding it flat as a mirror and the image repeated on the other side but from the opposite direction.

He came back to the front and reached a hand for the surface.

“My lord, don’t!” One of his guards set a hand over his arm and Thranduil looked at him.

“Does this not match the description of the strange shield the orcs think my son used to evade them?” He pulled his arm back and continued to study the apparition.

“Yes, but we have not the first inkling what it is,” the guardsman hissed.

“It’s a doorway,” Thranduil replied with imperious finality. “The advance I sent didn’t see the orcs when they arrived because there were none.”

“You know what this is?” One of Haavelas’s men came to stand beside him. “Where does it go?”

“That I do not know. Such things are so rare as to be believed a legend and all but forgotten. There are few mentions of them in our history. Until today, I had thought them the product of a mad mind.”

“It looks like our world… but the season is wrong,” a scout said. Her eyes were wide as she looked over the entire surface from top to bottom.

The rest of the company behind Thranduil continued to conjecture about the portal while he scoured the image for a clue as to whether Legolas had gone through here. An elvish arrow sticking out from a tree drew his attention. Legolas’s bow had been sundered so the arrow had to belong to Haavelas or one of his men. They hadn’t found the group yet and Thranduil doubted Haavelas would go through without cause, which meant the prince was likely on the other side as well. He worried he would never know unless he followed.

He turned to a runner by the name of Eleros, one of his fastest quickstriders. “Take two others with you and retrieve the groups we left to watch the orcs.”

Eleros bowed and pivoted away to do as he was bade, taking off at a sprint once he’d surveyed the clearing outside. Thranduil turned back to the portal, eyes narrowed. “As soon as they return, we will see what lies beyond this door.”

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The sun shone brightly on his face as consciousness pulled Legolas from his dreams. He blinked up at the traitorous curtains that had allowed a shaft of light between their panels and buried his head in the darkness of his blanket. Sleep had nearly reclaimed him when the sound of metal meeting metal registered in his ears. He bolted upright and listened. He definitely heard the ringing of steel and the softer sounds of exertion from Tal and Seren.

The covers were thrown aside as Legolas ran from the bed in Tal’s guestroom and vaulted to the door and down the hall. He passed the kitchen and skidded to a halt, his socks slipping on the wooden floor. The room was blindingly bright to his still sleep-fogged eyes and he hurriedly wiped them as he chose Tal’s best cooking knives from the magnetic rack they clung to and continued his sprint toward his friends. He reached the staircase at the end of the hall and looked up. The sounds seemed to be coming from the floor above. He took the stairs two at a time, adrenaline pushing him on hard now that he was finally awake. He followed the sounds of the fight to the third floor, past the last landing and dashed down the hall. The clang of weapons was now pinging off the walls deafeningly.

Sprinting through the open double doors of a large room that was nearly the width of the house, Legolas stopped. The knives he had borrowed were never lifted for attack or defense as the sight before him wasn’t what he expected.

Seren and Tal stopped in mid-dance, their interlocked weapons quivering as they held one another at bay. The siblings looked at him, surprise plain on their features.

“Legolas?”

Tal was the first to step back and Seren stumbled at the loss of resistance and glowered at her brother.

“I… thought you were in trouble,” Legolas muttered, feeling a flush rise in his cheeks.

Seren tried to hide her giggles but failed when she spotted the cooking knives. “He came armed and ready to rescue us, Taliesin!”

Legolas glanced down at the knives, a quiet grumble on his lips as he turned to leave.

Seren stopped him. “Tal has something for you.”

He turned back and Seren padded on bare feet to him and gently removed the knives from his grip.

“I didn’t know you could fight.” He studied her features intently for deception but found none.

She snorted lightly. “I can’t. Tal keeps trying to change that however.”

The older Evans sighed good-naturedly. “She _can_ but she refuses to practice.”

“I’m not a fighter, Tal. I’ve told you this. You’re the ancient weapons and fighting expert, not me.”

Tal hung his head. “I know… I just… It’s something we used to have so much fun doing.”

Seren softened. “When Mom and Dad were teaching us, I was just happy we were spending time together. You and Dad were always more excited than Mom and I were.”

“So you indulge me?”

Seren nodded. “As you do for me when I make you model for my paintings.”

Tal laughed at that. “Speaking of, don’t you have some landscape to get back to?”

Seren mock saluted him and bowed out of the room, leaving Legolas with her brother.

“She seems in better spirits than she has these past few days,” Legolas remarked as the door clicked closed. He turned to Tal who seemed lost in thought for a moment.

“Seren had a lot invested in that cabin. It was hers long before our parents died and left it to her.” Tal chuckled. “She even helped our dad choose that electrically controlled propane heating system when California law decreed wood stoves too unsafe to use as a main source. And that system turned her home into a pile of toothpicks. If I know my sister, she’s been beating herself up about it for these last three days.”

Tal dragged in a breath, gathering his wits, “But enough about that.”

He strode to what he dubbed Lee’s Corner, where he liked to relax and watch Bruce Lee films and bent to retrieve a case laying on the smaller sofa. It was placed on a table by the wall and he gestured for Legolas to open it.

The elf looked uncertainly from him to the case and reached for the clasps. His eyes widened and a breath escaped him when the lid rose and revealed a set of fighting knives similar his own.

“I couldn't help feeling responsible for what happened to your knives – I’m the one who insisted you leave them behind, after all. They wouldn’t have been ruined by the fire if not for me.”

Legolas reached for a blade, running his fingers reverently along the smooth flat metal and gripping the carved wooden handle, tugging it free. The wood was blond but not as pale as his had been. The grip bore a simple geometric pattern like the Native tribe patterns he’d seen at the tourist shop and in Seren’s home. An eagle’s head was etched into the pommel, capped with gold overlay to resemble a beak. The blade itself was a little wider than his had been but the weapon was perfectly balanced by the slightly longer hilt. He raised the dagger to the light and inspected it for imperfections. It wasn’t as fine as an elvish blade but it was extremely well made, nonetheless.

He looked over to Tal. “How did you –”

“A friend of mine makes it his life’s work to create genuine weapons using ancient crafting methods of smiths from another era… with a few modern differences to improve quality, of course. I told him what I was looking for and he had recently finished these. Carrying arrows and knives as you were when you arrived; I assumed you’re accustomed to using them. A warrior without a weapon is no warrior at all. I thought these might suit you for now.”

Legolas placed the blade back in its velvet lining and smiled. “They’ll do quite well, thank you.”

“And for my next trick…” Tal went back to the couch and picked up a bag, handing it to Legolas.

“More gifts?”

“Just one more. You can’t walk around with those in your hands.”

When he reached into the bag, Legolas felt hardened leather and pulled the item free. A harness with sheaths for both blades buckled to it slid from the plastic and he grinned.

“You and Seren have been very kind, Taliesin. I consider you both friends,” he said as he looked up at the human. “I will miss that friendship once I’ve returned to my world.”

“We’ll miss you too, Legolas. I just wish we could get back to that clearing but Drecker and those suits still have Seren’s property cut off ‘for investigative reasons’. We may have to start thinking about diversions to draw them away so we can sneak up the mountain.”

The thought piqued Legolas’s interest. “What did you have in mind?”

“Those suits seem far too interested in the orcs. They’ve tried to capture them alive.”

At this, Legolas frowned. “Why would they attempt capturing them? It’s foolish.” 

“Unfortunately they don’t know what they’re dealing with.”

“I could tell them!” Legolas insisted.

It wasn’t the first time he’d said this but he had yet to be offered a good reason against coming forward and helping to deal with the orcs.

Tal sighed. “I know your knowledge could help, but if they found out you’re from the same realm as those creatures; they’d lock you away for study. You’d be a prisoner until you died and it probably wouldn’t be a pleasant tenure as they’d experiment on you and cut pieces off of you for research.”

“Your people would do that? To someone who would be their ally?” His stomach rolled at the thought of captivity and dismemberment. He couldn’t fathom that these humans would do such things, yet Tal seemed convinced of this as a fact.

“The people who govern us have organizations at their command with unlimited resources to do whatever they deem ‘necessary’ in the name of ‘security’ and the ‘greater good of mankind’. At the very least, they’d destroy you and hide the deed to keep knowledge of other peoples from spreading in our world and panicking the masses. Of course I can’t say this is certain, but we don’t have a very good track record for such things. No Legolas; it’s not a good idea to let them know what you are and where you’re from. They believe the orcs are some kind of tribe from the peaks in our mountains – let them continue to believe that. Bullets seem to stop them well enough.”

His head spun a little as Tal spoke and he leaned on the table behind him trying to accept what he was being told. He leaned on his knees and breathed deep for a few moments and when he looked up, everything seemed muted and far away. He closed his eyes and continued breathing, picturing home and his father, the guards playing cards on break, training new guards, the feasts under the stars and music drifting through the halls. Soon his mind settled. The world around him came back into focus and Tal stood looking at him, shock plain on his features.

“Are you alright?”

Legolas nodded because he didn’t quite trust his stomach not to rebel if he spoke and his strength hadn’t fully returned so he continued leaning against the table.

“You went really gray for a moment.”

It was like Seren had told him; his color just seemed to wash out of him. It wasn’t like a person going pale. It was if his color dimmed altogether, like a light being turned down.

“We call it fading,” Legolas said finally. “For elves, if we don’t travel to the Undying Lands, we eventually fade and become wraiths drifting over the land. Usually it happens after one has lived for thousands of years and no longer has a purpose in the world.”

A sobering thought struck Legolas and he lowered his head. “Here I have no purpose… No elf does, because there is no magic and we are magical creatures. The shadows here are pulling at me and there’s nothing to stop it, so I will fade.”

Tal leaned against the table next to him, not sure what he could say. Finally he settled on, “We have to get you back. I don’t know how to do that, but we have to get you back.”

They stayed there for a few moments in silence, listening to Seren’s music drift up from the floor below as she painted. When Legolas felt like himself, he stood and regarded Tal.

“In the meantime, would you appreciate a more willing opponent to practice with?”

Tal grinned wide as he straightened. “Of course! I’ll get the training blades.”

From her balcony in the room Tal kept for her in his house, over the strains of a violin, the sound of ringing metal reached Seren’s ears. She looked up from her painting toward the improvised dojo and smiled. “Knock him on his ass, Legolas.”

 

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“They have the same kind of… glow that strange friend of Seren’s has. Too pretty for a guy…”

Drecker studied their captives. They’d been apprehended while chasing the strange creatures through the Evans property where the ruined cabin once stood.

The agent he’d been dealing with since the morning the first creature appeared offered a non-committal ‘hm’ as he gently examined the pointed ears. The male tried to pull away but the cuffs restraining him and tying him to a post kept him from going far. The reaction was slow as the sedative in the tranquilizer they’d used was still in full effect. It was strong enough to knock a full grown man out for hours but had only slowed these newcomers. It was still effective enough to allow their capture, however.

They’d arrived wearing strange green or brown fabrics and leather armor, bearing fine weapons that looked more at home at a renaissance fair. They’d proven real enough when the blades cut down a few of the monsters and Drecker’s men took a few arrows trying to round everyone up. A well placed bullet in the one who called himself Haavelas stopped the pointed-ears from continuing to resist. The grotesque creatures, however, hadn’t stopped until they all lay dead. Any hope for answers now rested with the newcomers they’d taken into custody.

The agent left the tent they’d set up in the yard and made a call to one of his fellow agents. “Go collect the first one. We have confirmation: He’s the one the creatures were after.”

After placing that call, the agent dialed someone else and made arrangements for a biological containment and study unit to be sent in. It would arrive in the morning and he wanted all of these beings ready for transport.

Drecker came out and stood next to the agent, whistling long and low. “The one we shot is already healing. The bullet went through his side – clean entry and exit – but it already looks a few days old instead of a few hours.” He sipped on his coffee and watched the agent’s face. “What are you gonna do with them?”

The agent continued to stare into the distance; he barely ever acknowledged Drecker. Still he answered, “They have remarkable abilities and can be an asset in dealing with these creatures. We will take them for study and questioning.”

“Maybe I’m being stupid but I must have missed the memo about having the authority to round people up like this. They have rights.”

The agent held out a blood vial for him to take. The sheriff held it up and shook it. Pale grey ash drifted around inside. The sticker labeled it as ‘specimen A’. It was the same vial he’d seen extracted from the wounded male a couple of hours ago. It had been blood at the time.

“Humans have rights, Sheriff. Those… people aren’t human.”

The vial was taken from him and Drecker watched, thinking the agent would say more but after the silence stretched on for several moments, he went back into the warmth of the tent.

Haavelas feigned sleep as Drecker returned. He’d been restrained to a crude bed and bandaged but his side still hurt immensely. They’d come through a strange circle of light to find Legolas and it seemed these humans knew where he was. He’d hoped to collaborate with the humans to find the prince and defeat the orcs before returning home. Instead, they’d fired some kind of weapon at him that hurt more than any blade or arrow he’d ever felt and the rest of his kin had been struck with a poison dart that made them drowsy, despite having surrendered and offering no resistance. Anger made his insides feel like acid at the treatment they’d suffered and he vowed to spare no one that would impede them whenever the opportunity for escape came.

After listening in on the conversation between the two men outside, Haavelas resolved that there would be a chance for escape sooner rather than later. The idea of being studied left him unsettled and the wound where his blood had been taken from him still felt weird and wrong. The restraints told him all he needed to know. These men weren’t like men from his world and they weren’t asking for the elves’ help. Indeed they didn’t seem to regard them as anything more than a curious animal, something to study and examine. He only hoped he could somehow get them all back to Middle Earth. Weariness that had nothing to do with his injury passed over him and sleep soon claimed him legitimately.

 

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Night had settled over the Grey Mountains when Thranduil heard the first of his kin return. Nuinethir and his group strode into the cave and stared at the portal for several moments before remembering to address the elvenking and offering a rushed bow.

Thranduil let the oversight pass and asked about the orcs’ activities he’d been monitoring before being recalled.

“They seem to be waiting for something, like we are. Most of the talk we managed to pick up suggests they believe one of these will appear at their location.” Nuinethir gestured toward the golden circle. “They’re also convinced that Legolas went through such a portal as this.”

Thranduil turned to the image behind him and let out a long slow breath. “They are likely correct.” He pointed to the elvish arrow embedded in the tree. “Haavelas followed him.”

Nuinethir saw the arrow and his mouth set into a pinched line. “Foolish though Haavelas can be, he wouldn’t have entered without cause.”

“Indeed not.” Thranduil’s agreement was terse. “I wonder… What do the orcs know? Why do they wait in such specific locations…?”

Nuinethir watched his king, and his pale steel-colored eyes narrowed. “Are we going to follow?”

Thranduil didn’t look to him as he nodded. “As soon as the others return, we will follow. I suggest you and the others rest. In the morning we will begin a dangerous journey.”

 

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Tal and Legolas were laughing as they came downstairs and entered the brightly lit kitchen where Seren was cutting vegetables for dinner. She looked up at them and stopped, knife held mid-slice and her emerald eyes wide as she surveyed her brother’s bruised face.

Tal smiled sheepishly. “We may have gone a little overboard…”

“A little?”

“He insisted that I not ‘take it easy’ on him,” Legolas said. Now that Seren was glaring at her sibling, he felt defensive. He relaxed when she offered him a tiny smile.

She was also pleased to note that Tal was leaning too much as he walked. “I take it your backside took a beating? Were you knocked onto it many times?”

Tal gingerly wiggled onto a stool at the kitchen island and picked up a piece of cut broccoli. “You have no idea. I knew he could fight but he’s a bloody terror!”

Seren laughed and pushed some veggies in Legolas’s direction. “You really should have known better, Taliesin.”

Legolas took the stool next to Tal and began to nibble on the raw food as they regaled Seren with the day’s sparring lesson. It mostly detailed Taliesin’s total defeat at Legolas’s hands. Laughter rang through the kitchen as evening fell upon the world outside.

Unlike Seren, Tal lived in the town. His large stone façade house sat at the dead end of the street closest to the mountains’ base. A long driveway connected it to the cul-de-sac so it sat some distance from the road, surrounded by trees. From the back door, a path led into a forest that grew up the mountainside. The slope was shallow enough that one could hike up to the clearing where Seren’s cabin once stood. The night they’d arrived at Tal’s house, Legolas spotted the dim orange glow of the fire and teased the human about his protectiveness of his sister.

Seren had mostly kept to her room during those first few days except to go for her early morning run. Tal was left with the task of entertaining Legolas and kept his guest engrossed with tales of their childhood and pictures of their parents, as well as films he thought Legolas might enjoy (after he’d helped the elf get over the shock of the television). They even made an excursion toward the cabin, intending to slip past and make their way up to the clearing but Tal discovered that the Suits had set up camp over the ruin of his sister’s home and the area was well guarded. They hadn’t tried again since.

When they did see Seren, it was for meals and the occasional discussion about how they might get back to the clearing. Last night was the first time she stayed out for a little while, playing Scrabble with them and helping Legolas win under the guise of assisting him with understanding their form of English. Now that she seemed ready to tackle the problem once again, Legolas hoped they could try to make their way to the clearing tonight.

However, Seren refused to discuss the matter until they had all eaten. Dinner was a dish of sautéed broccoli and mushrooms over rice, with chicken. Legolas found it acceptable but Tal grumbled, “It needs some lemon grass…” which earned him an eyeroll and a sigh from his sibling.

Cleanup waited until after they’d all watched Tal’s favorite Bruce Lee film, “Enter the Dragon”. Legolas remarked that Bruce seemed a far more appropriate skill level to challenge him and Tal reddened at the criticism. He was mollified when Legolas said he had presented more of a challenge than expected, if a bit predictable. He pretended not to hear that part.

Night had completely fallen when Seren rose from the couch and declared she had more painting to do.

Tal sighed. “Right. You cooked, so I clean…”

Seren smiled fondly at him. “I can’t let you have Legolas all to yourself.”

Both men stood and Legolas watched through the doorway as Tal began to put dishes in the machine that washed them. He still found it fascinating and was divided between his curiosity in the device and his desire to see Seren’s work. His interest in her art won out and he veered toward the stairs and up to Seren’s room. He found her standing in the center of it, before the tall window pane doors. They were open and let in a crisp breeze but the view beyond was filled with the evening sky and the stars were emerging.

He wondered if that was what she was painting but when he looked toward her easel, he saw an altogether different – though no less breathtaking – view of the winter night sky. From over her shoulder, he marveled at it. It was startlingly lifelike but had more vibrancy and color than this world had on its own. The urge to compare it to Middle Earth made him realize that what bothered him most about Earth was how muted everything seemed to his eyes. He’d thought it was just his sight but the painting was too vivid. Now he wondered if this world was simply dull.

The star filled landscape beckoned to him and something tugged at his awareness as he stared. There was an expanse of snow that looked nothing like the terrain here in Big Bear. The trees were also different. There was a greater variety. Pines didn’t dominate the image but instead, great oaks, cedars and reds – trees of many varieties filled the canvas. And the stars… He felt he had seen them before somewhere.

Vague perceptions of constellations he knew from home teased at his mind but he dismissed them because such a thing was impossible. So he stared long and hard until Seren stopped and turned to him.

“Could you back up, a little? You’re breathing on my neck.”

Legolas jerked his head as if startled from a trance and saw that he had wandered closer until he was hovering right over her and blinked. “Sorry. I just wanted a closer look.” He took a hasty step back and she moved aside to let him see her work.

She studied his spooked expression for a moment. “Are you alright?”

He blinked again and looked at her. “This image seems familiar to me, but I don’t know why.”

A knock on the front door suddenly echoed through the house and Seren wove around Legolas to answer it, swinging herself over the banister and lowering onto the rail below and repeating until she’d landed on the ground floor. When she arrived, Tal was already swinging the great panel of red painted wood open, a dishtowel and knife in hand. His greeting smile fell when he saw who was on the other side.

“Can I help you?”

Seren slowly entered the view of the door and scowled at the sight of one of Drecker’s new buddies from The Suits.

“Hello,” the Suit said.

There was an absence of emotion that unnerved Seren. He wasn’t arrogant with his authority. He almost seemed polite but that was probably her projecting that. There really wasn’t any kind of expression on his face. She shifted and crossed her arms over her chest and passed a grim glance to Legolas as he appeared next to her.

“I’ve come to speak with your friend; Legolas I believe is his name?”

Legolas stepped into view. “Yes?”

The Suit seemed happy, though his features hadn’t changed. “Ah! There you are.”

“What do you want with him?” Seren demanded. She came forward and stood between her brother and friend.

The Suit regarded her and his gaze seemed to bore into her as he studied her, a strange look finally changing his bland expression. “We know he’s not your lifelong friend from Montana. He’s only been here a few days.”

Seren scoffed. “Of course he is! Don’t be ridiculous.”

“He’s not human.”

Seren opened her mouth to retort but a picture was suddenly thrust out to her and she stared at it. It was an image of them the day they’d walked down the mountain and encountered Drecker. The picture had obviously been snapped from inside the black SUV they’d seen. In it, Legolas had tucked his hair back and the Suits managed to get a still of one of his pointed ears.

“Seriously?” Tal put himself between the Suit and the other two and glared down at the placid faced man. “This is your proof? An ear?”

The Suit was unperturbed by the aggression. “I have no cause to fabricate such a thing. I need answers. If you could explain this…?”

“It’s a family trait,” Legolas said flatly.

“My mistake,” the Suit replied, taking his picture back.

For some reason the response only made Seren’s hackles rise. She was getting the feeling that this agent was playing at something.

“What about the orcs? They have pointed ears too. Are they part of your family?”

Seren’s mouth dropped open and she looked to Legolas. His features were scrunched in disgust and he didn’t bother feigning ignorance about the orcs or asking how he knew what they were called.

“Of course not!”

“I see… and what about these… individuals?”

The Suit produced another picture. An image of Seren’s destroyed cabin was in the background behind a group of startled looking elves. They had weapons out and black streaks decorated their hand crafted leathers. In the center, in front of the others, was a male with light auburn hair and dark grey eyes.

“Haavelas…” Legolas breathed when he saw the image. His eyes snapped up and narrowed at the Suit. “Where are they? What have you done with them?”

The Suit smiled and it sent a wave of cold unrest down Seren’s spine. “They arrived this morning, chasing the orcs. We assisted them with dispatching the rest and gave them shelter at our camp so that they could help us understand this enemy and defeat them.”

There was something he couldn’t define, but Legolas knew this man was lying to him. Whatever he wasn’t saying, the human was dangerous.

“It’s me they’re after. Once I return home, they won’t trouble this world anymore.”

The Suit seemed to weigh his next words carefully, for far too long. “We want to understand these things you call orcs. Should they ever return, we need to know how to deal with them.”

“You already have a way to deal with them,” Tal retorted. “Shoot them enough and they go down.”

“Once they follow Legolas back, they won’t return,” Seren said. “They’ll continue chasing him in his world.”

“You’ll have to forgive my skepticism,” the Suit said smoothly.

“You can’t study them! They’ll just resist until either you kill them or they kill you,” Tal added.

“They have posed a threat to the people of this town. They must be stopped. All we ask is for help in doing that.” The Suit regarded Legolas again. “If you would come with me, tell us what you know and put your skills to use –”

“Haven’t you been listening?” Suddenly Seren was standing in front of Legolas and fended off his attempt to brush her aside by reaching behind her and gripping his wrist so he remained still.

“Even if you kill off or capture the orcs, more will simply take their place and in greater numbers. An army could be next.”

“I will come to you,” Legolas said suddenly. “Tomorrow at sunrise, I’ll be there.”

“No! Legolas, you can’t!” Seren turned to face him and he blinked to see she was terrified of his decision.

“If I can help, I must. Haavelas may know of a way back. The sooner I rejoin him, the sooner we can return to Middle Earth.”

“You can’t trust them,” she murmured.

“She’s right, Legolas,” Tal added. “Don’t go.”

Legolas offered a reassuring smile to both of them and looked toward the Suit again. “Tomorrow, at dawn; I will meet you.”

“I’m afraid I must insist that you return with me tonight.”

The black clad form moved impressively fast, raising a strange pistol and taking aim at Legolas. The elf was faster and slipped to the side behind the shelter of the door as the weapon went off with a low hiss of air. Tal kicked the Suit back from the threshold and slammed the door shut and then looked where the weapon’s projectile landed.

A dart was stuck to the plaster. Seren pulled it free and held it up for Tal to see. He growled and cracked a window open and saw the agent was on his feet, brushing off his suit.

“Impeding a federal investigation is a felony, Mr. Evans.”

“Not if I haven’t seen a warrant! Don’t come back without one!”

The Suit took a phone from his pocket and began dialing. He looked back at Tal. “Do excuse me. This won’t take long.” The Suit wandered down the drive and his voice, when the call was answered, was an unintelligible murmur.

“I can’t pickup anything he’s saying.”

“Let me try,” Legolas said and stooped as Tal stood.

“What are we going to do?” Seren whispered to her brother when he was close, her heart tripping in her chest now that they'd essentially assaulted a federal agent. “We can’t let them take Legolas!”

“I know. I just don’t know how to get him back.”

“His friends had to have come from a different portal and the orcs’ numbers keep increasing but they would pass right by my home if they came from my clearing. They’d have been taken down before they made it into the woods. There must be other portals – we have to find one!”

The loud snap of the window closing interrupted them and they looked to see Legolas closing the curtains.

“We must leave here, now!”

He passed them and turned off lights as he went. Tal started doing the same while Seren stood in the middle of the room demanding an explanation. Tal pointed to the lamp next to her and she switched it off and followed them to the kitchen where the procedure was repeated.

“Whatever a warrant is, he isn’t going to bother. He asked for a ‘task force’ to be sent here.” Legolas reached toward the window but Tal waved him back and drew the curtains himself instead so he turned toward Seren.

“The person he was speaking with agreed. He ordered that one outside to get rid of both of you, that they ‘didn’t have time to do things properly’ because he wanted every last elf assessed and ready for transport in the morning. The reinforcements will arrive in less than thirty minutes.”

The air in Seren’s lungs whooshed out of her and a crestfallen look graced her features. Panic started creeping into her blood and she didn’t have the heart to say ‘I told you so’.

World spinning and stomach churning, she looked balefully at Tal for a moment before collecting herself. “Ok. Once we get you back, there’ll be nothing to capture and nothing they can do – who would believe elves were here? We’ll be fine. We just have to return you and the others to Middle Earth. Ok…” She nodded to herself and took off to Tal’s bedroom.

Legolas and Tal continued shutting off lights, and locking and barricading doors and windows while Seren packed. When the first floor was dark and as secure as they could make it, Tal began sprinting up the stairs, taking them three at a time to the third floor. Legolas followed Seren’s path and found her in his borrowed room, stuffing all the clothes and essentials he had into a pack along with a blanket. The light armor he’d arrived in was still hanging from a hook on the back of the closet door so he whipped it off and slipped it over his head, covering the “Star Wars” t-shirt he was wearing. (He picked it out because the name had intrigued him.)

After that, they followed Tal up the stairs and went to her room. She started grabbing her things and some first aid supplies but packed no clothes. A small blanket was also rolled up and stuffed into her sack. A few personal items like her tooth brush and hair brush were added as well as some socks.

“Do you not need clothes?”

A puff of humorless laughter answered him. “Legolas, this trip probably won’t last long enough for clothes to matter. We’ll either be caught by the F.B.I.’s helicopters or – hopefully – we’ll have you and the others safe and sound, back in Middle Earth and be home by lunch time tomorrow.”

“The others?” Legolas looked at her wide eyed. “Do you mean to free Haavelas and his men?”

“I think we should at least see if we can try.”

A sack was thrust into his hands and he stared a bit in awe. “I’m unsure if we can free them.”

Seren finally looked at him, a determined expression on her features. “We won’t know until we have a look.” She jutted her chin at the bag bunched in his hands. “Go downstairs. Pack whatever food you think will suit us.”

Tal entered the room bearing an arm load of weapons and set them on Seren’s bed.

“Oh Tal, for heaven’s sake!” she groused as he started strapping a sheathed short sword to her back.

“Just humor me.”

Legolas saw the knives he’d been given, also sheathed in their harness and set down the bag to strap them on.

When Tal was done with her, Seren mused, “I wonder what that suit is up to?”

Her brother took up his own sword and rushed downstairs to the living room, peeking out of the window. “He’s not there! His SUV is but he’s not.”

Seren perused her tall windows through the sides of her curtains but saw no sign of him save for a line of fresh footprints in the snow below her balcony. She returned to Tal’s room but there was no sign of the agent there either. The foot prints wandered past and disappeared around to the rear of the house where they continued under her windows. She went to the kitchen and parted the curtains above the sink the tiniest crack and a pasty face stared back at her.

She shrieked and jumped back, tumbling onto her rear. Tal and Legolas rushed to her and helped her up while she stared at the window.

“He’s been circling the house.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “We will have to be careful when we make our exit.”

Legolas went to the window and parted it a fraction of an inch. “He’s moved on.” He left the window and began gathering food items for them, shoving everything from Tal’s fresh bread to apples, bananas, cookies and bags of jerked meat into the sack he carried.

Suddenly he stopped, eyes wide. “I hear them. A great number of automobiles are heading this way. They’re still some distance off, however.”

Tal opened the fridge, handing bottles of water to Legolas and then grabbed an assortment of vegetables from the crisper and wrapped them in cheesecloth before adding them to their supplies.

“Time to leave!” He said in a harsh whisper.

After hastily donning boots and heavy coats, the trio crept to the back door but saw no sign of the agent. Silently, with hearts pounding, they waited for the man to pass. After what seemed an eternity, the tips of black shoes appeared in the gap under the curtain. The Suit poked and pushed at the door a bit and then went still. He stood there for several minutes and Seren worried he might try to kick the door in.

Eventually he moved on and they all sighed in relief. Once the man was on the far side of the house, they took their chance and slipped out into the cold air. Tal pointed to a straight gap cutting a line through the snow.

“Follow the gutter run off.”

It was iced over now and presented a hazard but they would leave no tracks. There was a large bush where it ended that could hide them if they needed. Legolas took a few steps back and ran off the porch, leaping the distance. Seren stifled a gasp as he landed on the frozen trail, worrying he would fall. Instead Legolas slid along, riding the slippery surface all the way to the shallow ditch that collected rain and melted snow.

“Show off,” Tal grumbled.

Seren looked to the far end of the building, half expecting to see the agent coming around the corner but it was still clear so she took Tal’s hand and he leaned her out to the 8 inch wide ribbon of ice and she began shuffling along it. She heard brother grunting behind her as he leveraged himself out from the porch and set his feet on the ground. He began stepping carefully forward but he was aware they didn’t have the time to take things slowly.

“Pick up the pace Seren.”

“If I go any faster I’ll fall on my face!”

“You know, for someone who runs over mountains; I thought this would be a cake walk.”

“Soil, snow, fallen trees, rocks, hills – I can run over those because I have traction,” Seren hissed back. “I’m not a polar bear!”

She did however increase the speed of her steps. Halfway across the distance the ground began to slope down toward the ditch and a foot slipped. She overextended to maintain balance and took too big a step. Pulling in the leg behind her, she crouched and found herself sliding along and much too fast to have any hope of not crashing. It was all she could do to focus on her balance as she rode the rest of the way down to where Legolas stood. She braced herself for being dumped into the snow but Legolas stopped her flight and she almost aspirated long blond hair as he set her upright again.

“Thank you.”

“Not bad for a first time,” he chided.

Tal was coming down the slope when she looked back to him. He had less success traversing the ice than she did. He stumbled and landed on all fours and finished the crossing in that fashion. He stood with a grumble while they smirked at him and they all tucked themselves behind the bush, expecting to see the agent again at any moment.

There was no sign of him, however.

“Where could he have gone?” Seren asked no one in particular.

The sound of breaking glass echoed faintly to them and Taliesin scowled.

Legolas said what they were all thinking. “In mere moments he will know we’re no longer there. We shouldn’t stay.”

“Yeah, let’s move,” Seren agreed.

They ran along the ditch, stumbling as they went over patches of ice and rock. After she nearly twisted an ankle, Seren had enough of trying to hide their tracks.

“We need to get to the trees!” She ran to side of the ditch and stepped on the embankment. Her feet dug into the snow and she took off like a gazelle, reaching the forest edge moments later.

Legolas followed her example and Tal, grumbling that it was useless to hide their tracks now, took his sister’s path, matching her impressions in the snow step for step.

“Why did you do that?!” He demanded as soon as he reached her.

“We need to waste less time and get away to somewhere safe! In the next few minutes, there’ll be agents and cops all over your yard. Hiding our tracks won’t matter!”

With that she pivoted toward the mountain and started the hike toward her former home.

“We will need shelter,” Legolas pointed out.

“There’s only one place I know we can go,” Seren replied. “I wonder if the old mattresses in the barracks are still serviceable...”

Tal groaned. “Are you talking about what I think you are?”

“Yep!”

Tal groaned again. “I hate the old mine…”

 


	8. A Sibling Squabble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tal begins to realize his sister isn't as fragile as he remembers her.

The first thing Thranduil felt when he stepped through the doorway between worlds was a feeling of being stretched tight from within. Shadows pressed heavily on his energy and he felt suddenly raw. The strange world seemed dim and he wondered if his vision would be permanently so affected by the environment.

He passed his gaze around the landscape. They were in a rocky crevasse shaped like a crescent moon. A smattering of trees and grass were before them and a pond sat some distance behind them. Its surface was still except for where a small cascade of water tumbled into it from the rocks above. The doorway hovered in the air between, flickering softly once in a while.

“I have to go back!”

An elven woman, one of his most gifted healers, was nearly the color of slate and appeared somewhat vaporous in form. Thranduil’s mouth parted in shock at the sight of her.

She looked to him, her golden eyes shining. A gasp rent from her throat and her face went gaunt. “There’s no magic here… I have to go back!”

Thranduil gestured for three guards to help her and they took her by the shoulders, helping her cross the portal. Once on the other side, they handed the healer some water and her color improved, though she was visibly weak.

Nuinethir stepped up beside him. “This place… It stretches us thin. We can’t remain here long. Legolas may have faded by now. There may be nothing to find.”

_Nothing to find…_

Thranduil’s jaw clenched and he breathed deeply through his nose. “I will entertain that possibility once we’ve exhausted every avenue of inquiry, Lieutenant.”

After assessing the rest of his party, the elvenking commanded that they begin their explorations. The crevasse had a metal door in the wall opposite from the water and one natural exit in a gap by the northern end. They chose this path and began making their way out into the night.

The going was slower then he’d anticipated. Many felt weakened by the shadows and the unfamiliar terrain slowed them. As they made their way through the trees on the mountainside, Thranduil thought about the phenomenon here that affected some of his kin as it did while others seemed not to feel it at all. He himself felt wearier than he had before stepping through the doorway. The invigoration of magic that charged his limbs and readied him for battle seemed absent.

The healers were the most affected. After that, those with foresight – no matter how minor their talent – were diminished. His quickstriders and those best trained for battle and least gifted with magic were the least troubled while anyone with heightened senses felt it enough to know it was there but were able to defy it.

_There’s no magic here!_

The sentence stayed with him. This world didn’t seem to have an undercurrent of life flowing through it. Everything here was just a construct of living tissue but no real life. No trees spoke, no birds called out with any meaning and simply squawked mindlessly. No waters murmured about the life of the world and no breeze whispered of renewal as it drifted across the land. The world here was utterly silent. It had no soul, no music. It was chaotic and ever-changing, but without any purpose. It was this very absence that weighed on their energy. The world had no magic because it had no soul. And those most sensitive to the life held within the lands of Middle Earth, were the most gravely affected here.

Thranduil’s eyes widened at what this would mean for himself and his kin. He could only hope they found Legolas and returned home before it was too late.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Why do you not wish to learn to fight?”

Seren looked up from where she was drawing in the dirt with a stick and found Legolas staring at her intently. “Oh… Every time I’d ever tried, I have nightmares afterward. My parents, on my doctor’s suggestion, insisted on the exercises in order to keep me strong.” She glanced at Tal, sleeping on the other side of the fire. “I was a very sick child.”

They were in a storage room within the old mine and there was a tiny fire going for warmth, sleeping in the blankets she’d brought since the old barracks were in shambles and infested with rodents. Thus far, there had been no sign the Suits knew of this place or had followed them after they made a break for it through the trees.

Tal complained at length about being closed in once they reached a decrepit tunnel but he was the first to fall asleep when they made camp. Seren and Legolas spent the hours since, talking quietly about their worlds and customs. The subject of war in Middle Earth prompted Legolas to ask the question he did now.

“Tal made the moves into a dance so I could learn but I couldn’t use weapons, not at first. The sound was just so horrible to me – I don’t know why. Fighting my brother and father, even in training, just scared me out of my wits. When I grew older, I learned to suppress it and was able to master the basics –swords and all – but still the nightmares would come. Now, I can practice once in a while for a time so I try to oblige Tal when I can. I know how much he misses it and our parents – the family learning the art together.”

Legolas smiled and his gaze drifted to the flames. He carefully considered his next question, unsure he wouldn’t upset Seren with such a personal query.

“Tal mentioned your parents before… What happened to them?”

Seren stiffened a little and her breath stuttered once as she drew it in. “It was five years ago but at times, it seems like yesterday. Our mom… People say she died of a broken heart, that she couldn’t live without our father. She passed a few months after he did. There was no apparent cause. She just went to bed one night and never woke up. I found her, in a pile of dad’s clothes on the bed and all of the drawers on his dresser half open. She had a smile on her face for the first time since he passed.”

Seren looked down at her doodle in the dirt and wiped it away with a foot. She began a new image and Legolas thought she would say no more but after a few moments, she spoke again.

“My father… He died like Bruce Lee.” She smiled wistfully at the comparison. “There’s an entire culture that surrounds reviving the combat and weapon styles of ancient civilizations. Dad used to do presentations and compete in tournaments and one can collect an impressive list of injuries that never fully heal. As he grew older, those injuries began to bother him. But he’d just swallow a bunch of pills and declare himself fit for battle. He couldn’t fathom ever giving it up. At his last tournament, he took something for a headache and went to lie down before the banquet. When the champion failed to show up, they went to his dressing room and found him unresponsive on the couch. By the time, he arrived at a hospital, he was gone. The doctors said his heart stopped because of aspirin induced edema.” Seren laughed a soundless and bitter laugh. “It was the first showing he’d won in over a year and it was supposed to be his last before retiring.”

Seren looked at Legolas then, eyes glassy and bright. He was sitting there across the fire, silent and still as a statue.

“Well… he never had to worry about what he’d do with himself in retirement.” She murmured and went back to doodling in the dirt with her stick.

“What about the dance you learned with Tal? Do you still do it?”

Seren raised her head and smiled. “Only when no one’s looking.”

A yawn escaped her suddenly and she shuffled down into her blanket and wished Legolas a good night. He returned the sentiment and laid on his back to study the stars peeking through a ventilation shaft, listening for Seren’s breathing to even out in slumber.

When he was certain she wouldn’t wake and that Tal still slept, he rose silently and reached for his knives. Seren had given him a map in case they were separated and he tucked it into his left bracer. After checking that he had everything he needed, he took a moment to gaze fondly upon the humans before slipping out of the room, down the shaft and out into the starry night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was a lot of activity among the F.B.I. agents when Drecker arrived at the camp. It was two hours before dawn but they were all immaculately dressed and speaking with urgency. The leader seemed agitated as he demanded a list of all the possible routes leading to and from the mountain, every resident living on its slopes and any other pertinent structures they could find information on and dismissed them.

Drecker tried not to smile about the agents’ difficulty. “Did you lose something?”

“The Evanses assaulted the agent I sent to collect their friend,” the leader said. “And then ran off into the trees.”

While Drecker knew this wasn’t any better for him than it was for the agent, he found it hard to sympathize. He liked the Evans kids (when Tal wasn’t trampling all over his town with that beast he called a truck) and they wouldn’t have assaulted anyone without cause.

“So why are you looking for them on the mountain? They were in town last I knew. Coming this way would be stupid.”

The agent sighed. “They know about the others in our custody.”

“Ah,” Drecker replied. “And you think they’ll try to rescue them?”

A single nod was the only response Drecker received. He thought of the old mine and wondered if he should mention it. It had been a small operation but it wound through the ridge surrounding Big Bear. The Serrano tribes successfully petitioned for it to be closed when the excavation intruded upon their land and all entrances had been sealed. He doubted anyone could get inside, but if there was a chance, the agents would learn of it and it would be his ass on the line.

“They are no paths up or down this mountain except for the main road. If they wanted to move unseen, they’d use the mine.”

The agent slowly turned and stared at him.

Drecker swallowed. “I’ll get you the blueprints.”

When the Sheriff left the tent, the agent tapped the mic hanging on his ear and waited for a response. It was answered a moment later by his second-in-command who stood outside with a few others.

“Set up the infrared perimeter. No alarms.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Legolas tip toed between tree trunks and studied the map once more. Seren’s cabin was a little further west from his current position. A rise in the mountainside blocked the clearing from view but he knew her land would be on the other side. He closed his eyes and brought up a memory of it, trying to recall the tree line. He decided to veer south and remain within the coverage of pines until he had to abandon it.

The snow muffled his steps which he was grateful for as he stumbled once when a wave of dizziness passed over him. It was his third episode since leaving the mine. They were increasing in frequency with every hour it seemed. He felt beyond tired and the world seemed dreamlike all the time now but he didn’t stop or slow.

He reached the top of the ridge and looked down at the site where Seren’s home once stood. Three white tents sat there now and light from within illuminated the figures occupying them. There were three figures between the first two tents, moving about and generally unaware he was right outside. The last tent had a much dimmer light but he was sure he counted six figures, all sitting and not moving as freely as the others. They had to be Haavelas and his men.

Keeping to the trees, Legolas skirted the camp until he came to the cluster of pines that sheltered the clearing from the road and studied the remaining agents spread out on the lawn. The tents were almost right up against the rise of rock but an agent patrolled the stretch behind them and came toward his hiding place. Silently he crouched and maneuvered further into the pines and hid behind a thick trunk, watching the agent as he stopped and peered into the trees for a few moments before moving on.

When it was safe, he returned to the spot where the trees came closest to the tents and judged the distance. He watched the agents as they wandered in their assigned patterns. Finally, his chance to go came and he hurried across. He tucked up behind the last tent, looking for a way in. It was a solid wall of strange fabric. He pulled one of his knives out and made a neat slit along the bottom of the tent where it met the ground just wide enough for him to wiggle through.

Caireann jumped and had to stifle a gasp when the blade suddenly started slicing the fabric of the tent. The others looked to what had so startled her and glad smiles broke out over their faces as Legolas’s head pushed through the opening he had made. He wiggled in, dragging snow and dirt with him. Once inside, he gazed upon them, smiling.

“I’m so glad to see you alive, my lord,” Haavelas said quietly. He almost didn’t believe the sight before him. The prince was a bit disheveled, bruised and thinner than he had been before and his color was muted but it was unmistakably the wayward elf he had defied the king to find.

“I’m glad to see you as well, Haavelas.” Legolas noted the way the elf listed to one side and frowned. “Are you alright?”

“They wounded him with some strange weapon,” Caireann whispered crossly.

“It’s healing well,” Haavelas said quickly. “I can manage well enough to leave this place.”

Legolas nodded. It would have to do. There wasn’t much time to waste. He studied the shackles on his kin, dismayed to find the metal cuffs didn’t have an easily accessed lock or hinge. He couldn’t smash them open either, because the noise would give them away.

He stood to follow the chain that ran through loops attached between them and felt something hit his back in two places. He heard Caireann gasp but his body froze and a crackle filled his ears as he shook where he stood.

A black clothed arm extended into the tent from the hole that had been cut in the back, wielding a taser. Coiled wires stretched from it to the leads that had latched onto Legolas’s leather armor, crackling terribly while the elves could only watch the prince shudder.

“No!” Haavelas shouted, struggling against his cuffs.

Every muscle seized and Legolas felt his heart trip and stammer. Pain seared through his chest and his vision dimmed. When it abruptly stopped, he fell to his knees reaching blindly for the things in his back but they started another attack and all he could do was fall to the floor convulsing with the unnatural rhythm coursing through him.

The zippered entrance of the tent opened and an agent appeared, grinning.

“So good of you to join us, Legolas! You’re just in time.”

The current in his body suddenly stopped but Legolas had no strength to rise. He hurt everywhere, his chest felt like it was filled with acid and his muscles continued to cramp painfully. Simply breathing was an extraordinary hardship. Dimly, he was aware of cold metal encircling his wrists. Before unconsciousness claimed him, he heard another agent approach.

“The transport is here.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“He went to the cabin!” Seren hurriedly packed her bedroll while Taliesin did the same with Legolas’s empty blanket.

“Probably,” Tal agreed.

When he woke and found no sign of the elf, he roused his sister. It was just before dawn now and they were supposed to be searching for another portal. Legolas’s disappearance had changed their plans.

“Cursed, foolish hero…”

“He’s probably trying to protect us,” Tal interjected.

Seren whirled on him. “Exactly! Taliesin, he’s sick. He doesn’t know the mountains – a map can only do so much – and who knows what state the others are in? It was foolish to go alone.”

Tal wanted to argue, to make Seren understand – he’d even have her stay here if he could but he knew that would be impossible.

Once they had everything stowed away, they took off from the mine at a run. Seren wove through trees and flew over the terrain, stopping or slowing to let Tal catch up before taking off again. When they were kids, they both explored the mountain they lived on but Seren had continued that tradition when he became too busy with martial arts to join her. After he moved into town and would come to visit her, he sometimes found her home empty and had to wait for her to return from running through the trees, clueless as to where he could look for her.

_“You shouldn’t be so careless in these hills, Seren!”_

Now he wished he hadn’t given it up. He would have wasted time picking his way over the land without Seren to lead him. As it was, he struggled to clear obstacles and didn’t always see a low branch in time while his sister leaned and sidestepped and hopped her way around everything. He wanted to grumble about the time it was taking but had no breath to speak and could only grunt every time she told him to hurry.

Seren veered south and slowed her pace. She turned back toward him and made a ‘be quiet’ gesture. Tal looked to his right at the ridge of rock they had avoided and the halved pine tree beyond it and realized they had reached the clearing where her cabin used to be.

The sun was finally rising above the eastern peaks and lit their way through the trees to the south end of Seren’s property. They hadn’t need to go far to see between the trees, that the camp was nearly gone. Only a few agents remained to roll up the tents.

“No!” Seren ran to the western edge where it dropped off fifteen feet onto the road below and spotted a white straight truck sitting there. Through the open back door, she saw Legolas and the others sitting on a bench inside, staring ahead unseeing. IVs were hung above them and when Legolas did move, his motions were slow and clumsy.

Her chest clenched tight. “Legolas… Haavelas…” She quickly counted those she could see and surmised they were all inside. Legolas gradually turned his head, searching but seeming confused about what he was looking for. Then he saw them and his eyes widened but at that moment the door was slammed shut.

“We have to stop them!” Seren looked at Tal as the truck started to roll away.

Tal’s mouth was set in a grim line. “There’s nothing we can do.”

“Tal…” she growled in warning.

“We can head them off – I know that – but then what? It’s crazy, Seren! I won’t risk your safety -”

“I’m going, with or without you. If you want to protect me, you’d better keep up.”

She ran back into the trees and Tal followed a moment later. He could live with himself if she was hurt, he’d hate himself but he’d live. He could live with himself if they let the elves go but it would kill Seren and she’d never forgive herself, much less him. He couldn’t live with Seren hating him; not for a day, not for a minute.

“Alright! Wait up!”


	9. Follow The Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises keep jumping out at Seren but one can only take so much before they snap.

In his mind, Legolas was raging but the toxin being fed into his arm prevented him from doing anything with his rage. It took what strength he had left to keep his head up and his mind thinking. He’d seen Seren and Tal, they’d come for him but it had been too late. He cursed inwardly for allowing himself to be captured. He was restrained like the others and when the automobile arrived, they’d all been struck with a sleeping dart. When he woke, there was a sore spot in his right arm and a strange apparatus fastened to him by a long clear tube that led to a pouch of liquid. It looked like water but he could feel the foul concoction that slipped into his blood from it. It muffled his senses, turned his stomach and made him feel weak.

Seren and Tal had been right: these humans would never have accepted his help or let him leave. The black clad men weren’t shy about discussing what was to be done with them, confident the sedatives would keep the elves immobile and helpless so they spoke with excitement of the scientific breakthroughs their captives could unlock for them. They showed little care when Haavelas began to shiver from the poison in the clears bags. What was the loss of one when they had so many? _Looks like we won’t have to put one of them down to do an autopsy…_

Legolas felt his anger rise, burning away some of the fog in his brain and he fed it. He dwelled on the fact that the agents had planned to kill Seren and Tal and that an innocent man had been tortured by the orcs. He made himself think about everything he knew had been done and was planned to be done to his kin and it gave him strength. With effort, he reached over to Caireann’s arm and took hold of the device taped to it. With every ounce of will he had, he pulled it free. He glanced at the bloody plastic cannula that had been inside her and dropped it with disgust.

Caireann yelped, in pain at the rough treatment and startled awake. She focused golden eyes on him and saw what he had done, gratitude overcoming her features.

Legolas blinked once and let his head fell back on the wall behind him as the vehicle rumbled along. Now, he had to wait and think of what to do next.

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Tal managed to catch up with Seren when she stopped on a rocky peak to watch the truck as it wound its way down the mountain.

“We need to go east and head them off before the road reaches town,” Tal said breathlessly.

Seren looked at him, a tiny smile twitched on the corners of her mouth and she nodded. “There’s an ore chute east of here. We can make good time if we take it down to the road.”

“But what are we going to do when we get there, Seren? The Suits had Legolas and the others drugged. They won’t be any help until we get them off those IVs.”

“I’m still thinking.”

There was a path that led east between the rocky hilltops before opening to a vast clearing that ended with a wall of trees and soil where an earthquake had cracked the ground. The chute lay beyond that. She pointed it out to Tal and then began making her way down the boulder.

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Thranduil raised his hand, calling a halt and gesturing for silence. He heard voices not far from their location. A large rise of stone offered a better view and he carefully strode up the steep surface. Many yards away, on another hill, he saw two humans; one a tall man and the other a woman with a dark red plait hanging down her back.

They seemed to be on a task of some urgency as they spoke for their words sounded rushed and labored. He couldn’t pick up everything they said but his son’s name reached his ears clearly. He clenched his jaw. _These humans know of Legolas!_ But what were they in a hurry about?

The woman turned east and pointed and Thranduil saw the traverse-able path over these rocks to reach the grass beyond.

The two started down the mound of shale and Thranduil half slid from his.

He glanced at Nuinethir. “There are humans just over there and they know of Legolas. We will have answers at last,” he said darkly, leading his people through the maze of stone.

Seren landed on the ground and pivoted, already angling around the boulder for the eastern path and ran into a wall of warm black metal.

Strong hands on her shoulders kept her from tumbling and her nose was filled with a woodsy and floral scent from long strands of pale hair. She pushed back and looked up, eyes widening in shock when they met an inhumanly bright ice blue gaze. Immediately she knew who this was, though nothing she had imagined prepared her for the reality looming in front of her.

Suddenly she felt quite small. All composure fled her for a moment and she muttered on a breath, “King Thranduil…”

Tal joined them, almost careening into the new arrivals as well but stopped when Seren spoke.

Thranduil felt his gaze widen in surprise. “You know of me, human.”

Seren blinked once or twice, getting her voice back. “Legolas speaks of you and the family resemblance is obvious. You can be no one else.”

When she mentioned the prince’s name, so familiar so casual, he felt his irritation grow and stepped up to her, glaring from under pinched dark brows. “Where is my son?”

The aggression irritated Seren in kind and she stepped back again, flinching when several bows were drawn at once. “He’s been taken. We were just on our way to try and get him back, along with Haavelas and the rest. You’re welcome to join us.”

She turned from Thranduil then and made for the gap between boulders but he stopped her with a hand around her arm. “You expect me to simply follow you?”

Seren pulled her arm free, green eyes glinting in the sun. “Follow us or don’t. There’s no time for questions now. Every moment we stand here,the further from us they take him.”

They stared at one another for a moment before Thranduil nodded.

Seren took a steadying breath, "This way."

With that she leaped into a sprint, slipping between rocks and running across the terrain. Tal, Thranduil and the other elves followed but Tal was quickly outpaced by rest. An elf woman stayed back with him, however and they navigated the terrain together.

A fallen log loomed in their path but Seren poured on the speed and vaulted it. Now confident of the ground on the other side, Thranduil did the same and his kin followed. The human was faster than he would have expected but she was no elf and Nuinethir ran ahead of her.

They soon reached kinder ground but the ridge of soil and trees loomed ahead. Seren arced southward and ran at a section where roots were exposed, using them to land and leap again as she made her way fifteen feet up to the next plateau. She temporarily gained a lead over Nuinethir but he soon passed her again. Then he pulled back and fell into place behind her, mimicking her steps and finding sure footing without error.

Tal slowed to gawk at Seren as she led the elves, drawing a smile from the elf woman next to him. Clearly he hadn’t been paying attention to his sister and needn’t have worried she’d break her ankle jumping rocks and tree roots.

One of the last elves to go before him scrunched his nose and suddenly shouted, “Orcs!” and hastily made his way up the ridge.

When Tal finally reached the top, he saw Seren dodging the creatures and weaving around trees. Thranduil and his kin were fending them off as she continued running.

The elvenking gestured to his runners, “Nuinethir! Go!” They joined Seren, staying close.

Thranduil, resigned to having to stay back for the moment, plunged into the battle with the rest of the elves, a sword in each hand. When Seren looked back, Tal was waving her on, telling her to go. She cast her brother a brief look of worry and continued her mad dash to the ore chute.

A single orc came out from behind a stone in front of them. Seren shrieked in surprise, her stomach dropping to her feet and she jumped reflexively, rolling around him. He turned after her, surprise making him focus on the wrong adversary and Nuinethir’s knife appeared through his chest from behind. The elf kicked the orc off of his blade, vaulting over him in the same smooth motion and caught up with the others.

After cresting another hill, a little metal frame embedded in the mountain’s peak came into view. A track curved out of it and stopped at a platform that sat on the mountain’s edge overlooking the pulleys and buckets used to drag up raw ore. A couple of carts were still standing there just barely big enough for two.

After Seren explained where the carts would lead and what they’d be encountering, she claimed the first cart and Nuinethir slipped in behind her. The other runners filled the second cart and Seren released the handbrake keeping them from rolling.

Their speed was slow at first and they had to hunch down when they entered the chute, knees and elbows banging into knees and elbows.

It was a straight descent at a steep angle and the cart wobbled and jumped, bouncing them around, jarring them as they rattled along and picked up speed. A pinprick of light ahead of them grew alarmingly fast and again they all ducked their heads as they came out at the bottom.

The day was almost blinding and the trees passed in a blur. The road came into view as the track leveled off and they began to slow. Seren looked to see the white truck coming around the bend. The cart stopped at the end cap and she climbed out, racing to the pavement and standing in the middle of the road. Her heart thumped madly in her chest and no clever idea would come to her.

The agent behind the wheel watched her uncertainly for a moment before continuing his speed. As it drew closer, Seren began to think she’d have to jump out of the way. Nuinethir joined her in the street and nocked an arrow, pointing it at the truck. The sight of another elf took the agents by surprise and the tires squealed, hissing white smoke as they came to a hard stop.

“Miss Evans,” the driver said when he emerged. It was the leader. The other one remained seated on the passenger side but the runners kept arrows trained on him as well.

“Release them now!”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk… Now Miss Evans; would you really risk their deaths?” the leader said smoothly.

“Yes,” Nuinethir hissed. “I know they would rather be dead if they could not be free.”

“I see…” The agent looked down at something they couldn’t see through the door but Seren felt a warning tension winding in her belly.

The agent in the passenger seat abruptly raised his head through his window and aimed a gun at Nuinethir but an arrow whizzed through the air and embedded into the agent’s hand. He dropped the gun screaming and another elf approached pointing an arrow at his throat.

Nuinethir, never taking his gaze or arrow off of the leader, repeated Seren’s command. “Release them. Now.”

The agent inclined his head and headed for the back of the truck. Seren watched every move, every muscle twitch; sure that he’d try something else. When they reached the doors, the agent slowly produced the keys and unlocked them.

As soon as the lock clicked, the doors flung outward and the agent was kicked squarely in the chest and knocked flat to the ground, his head thumping on the pavement.

Caireann looked up at them sheepishly and straightened her posture. “I’m glad it wasn’t one of you who opened the door!” She got up and pulled the IVs from three of her kin. The others, she had already done, including Legolas and Haavelas, though they were slow to respond since the poison’s flow had been stopped. She went back to Haavelas and checked him, casting a worried look to them. “He needs a healer and soon!”

“There’s no magic here,” Seren said awkwardly. It was strange to say such a thing in all seriousness.

Caireann looked at her for the first time. “I know. We have to return to the portal we came through. There we can tend to him.”

The rest of the elves started shaking off their stupor and greeted them in a tipsy like fashion. Seren watched Legolas sway as he tried to ask questions. Under different circumstances, she might have been amused.

Helping him out of the truck, she walked him across the road and set him on the grass. She straightened to go help another when a hand clumsily found her coat sleeve and gripped it. Legolas was pale and his lips were dry as he croaked.

“Here, let me get you some water.” Shrugging off her pack, she dug out one of her water bottles and cracked it open before handing it to him. He drank half of it greedily before lowering it.

She checked again to see that his color was better and his eyes more focused before leaving him there to scowl dangerously at the agent on the ground who was just coming to.

Caireann was dragging Haavelas out with the help of another from her team as she passed and they laid him next to Legolas. The rest of the elves were more alert and ambulatory, if a bit weak. Seren supported the next elf as they crossed the road and sat on the slope. By the time everyone was out of the truck, Legolas was doing better but Haavelas hadn’t yet come to.

Seren gave her other bottle of water to Caireann, not sure what good it would do but the elf accepted it.

“I’m Caireann.”

“Seren.”

“Thank you, Seren.”

She nodded and went to Nuinethir. “We can’t stay but they’re in no shape to move yet.”

The quickstrider nodded, not turning from his study of the slope they had to trek over.

“Where did you arrive when you came to this world?”

Now Nuinethir did look at her. “The doorway opens in a wide chasm in the stone, shaped like a crescent moon. Do you know it?”

“I do.” Seren sighed, dismayed. “I had hoped it would be closer – much closer. What’s more is that gorge lies within the boundaries of the Serrano territories. They may not let so many of us travel through their land.”

She left Nuinethir to think on that and went to the agent lying in the road. She watched him nervously and looked at the elf still pointing an arrow at the man.

“I… need to check his pockets. He probably has the keys for those shackles.”

The elf prodded the agent with a foot. “Move your hands above your head and keep them there. Another elf bent down and started turning out the suit, rather than let Seren risk it; showing everything to her before tossing it aside when she shook her head. Finally he pulled a set of handcuff keys free and she took them, taking one off the ring and handing it to another elf.

They went to Haavelas first and opened the metal circlets and then did the same with everyone else. Once free, they rose and Legolas declared that they had to move. He was still a little slow but seemed otherwise recovered.

“But Haavelas won’t wake up!” Caireann cried. “We can’t leave him!”

The suggestion mildly offended him. “We won’t. He will have to be carried.”

The group rose and those who felt able, helped secure the agents with their own cuffs and destroyed the vials of blood that had been taken from them. Seren removed their phones and weapons, tossing them into the water filled ditch by the road.

She turned to Nuinethir and Legolas. “Just around that bend,” she pointed in the direction from which the truck had come, “there’s a ravine that leads back up to the clearing where we left the others. It’s very rocky and covered in moss but it’s the nearest shortcut. It’s part of the shift that split the ground into two levels and created that ledge we had to climb.”

“Then let us be going,” Nuinethir said. “We shouldn’t keep the king waiting.”

Legolas’s eyes widened to saucers. “My father is here?”

“Well yes,” Nuinethir answered as if this was a silly question.

The three of them started crossing the road to join the others, when the leader of the F.B.I. agents spoke suddenly. “You’ll never get them back, Miss Evans. This is only a temporary victory.”

When Seren looked at him, he grinned and she scrunched her nose at the strange sight.

“We know you’ve been using the mine to remain unseen. We have all of its entrances guarded now and soon our black bird will find you. You cannot hide. It’s only a matter of time, Seren.”

A chill went up her spine at the use of her name, carrying promises of horror and something within snapped. A strange calm settled over her.

“So you know _one_ of my secrets. This mountain ridge has been my backyard for over two decades. I have run over its hills and valleys every single morning since I could walk.”

The agent’s smug expression began to drop into an angry frown and Seren smiled, wide and feral. She stepped toward him, voice dropping in tone with each word until it sound almost as though two voices came from her and the air seemed to grow heavier and darker.

“I run with the deer, _I_ chase the bears, I sit where the eagles nest and I know every rock and tree and stream. This is my home, agent. You will _never_ find us.”

Legolas and Nuinethir exchanged uncertain glances behind her before she turned away from the Suit and marched past them. The others fell into step behind her as she led the way up the ravine and into the trees.


	10. One Door Closes and Another Door Opens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Legolas are finally reunited and it's the beginning of the end for Seren.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just F.Y.I. there will be death in this chapter. I hope they are appropriately heart tugging so be warned. Someone's part in this tale will end. Maybe more than one someone...

Legolas cast another glance at Seren, keeping step beside her. She hadn’t said anything since they made it over the mossy rocks at the bottom of the ravine. They were treading a steep slope of hard earth, taking care not to trip on the jungle of roots embedded in the ground.

She seemed unlike herself and stared ahead. Her posture was different and she carried herself as if she wore heavier clothes. True to her claims, she led them under a thick canopy of trees and there had been no sign of the agents. She marched ahead of them, a soldier of a fixed mind.

A break in the pines allowed a shaft of sunlight to stream down to the ground and Seren stopped when she felt the warm light. She blinked several times and gazed up as if waking from a dream. A smile graced her features and her eyes fell closed for a moment.

Legolas watched as the animation of her face returned and the Seren he knew looked at him. She glanced around her, confusion pinching her brows.

“Are you alright?” Legolas stepped between her and the others to allow her a moment to collect herself. “You seemed… distant.”

She nodded. “I’m fine… Whatever that was… well I can’t worry about it now. My brother and your father are waiting.”

She closed her eyes against a flood of disjointed images, memories that didn’t seem her own but were recorded from her own eyes and breathed deep. She strode a few more paces up the steep ground and looked west and then beckoned for Nuinethir.

The quickstrider loped over to her side and she pointed to a wide area of level ground just before another path up the slope. It would lead back to the stones where she and Tal had first encountered Thranduil.

“We have too many to chance traversing open ground. If we can avoid it, we must. There are caves and ledges along a route that we can take to the Serrano tribe’s territory. Just north of the rocks, the trees become dense and the ground levels off. Please go to your king and have him meet us there.”

Nuinethir nodded and then turned to the remaining three quickstriders, speaking in Elvish. One of them joined his leader and they took off eastward at a breathtaking sprint while the other two stayed behind.

When she looked at Legolas again, he was trying to hide a smirk.

“What?”

“Not many would command the Quickstriders of my father’s personal guard as if they were their own – the king might have something to say about it.” Now he did chuckle.

Seren’s eyes widened a fraction at the words _personal guard_ but she swallowed down her unrest. “He can say what he likes. There’s nothing he can actually do about it.”

And that was precisely why Legolas couldn’t keep from laughing. His father was unintentionally comical when faced with someone who had no reason to recognize his authority.

Seren shook her head at him and resumed their trek, heading west toward easier ground.

The path towards the boulders wasn’t terribly steep and it was free of roots so they made better time, even with those who were unwell. Haavelass remained unresponsive and his breathing grew more labored as time went on. No one spoke their thoughts but many exchanged sad glances when the Captain drew in a particularly difficult gasp: if they didn’t find a closer doorway, Haavelas wouldn’t make it.

Seren also worried over Legolas. He remained a few steps ahead of her and everyone else was many paces behind. She suspected he did this to keep his episodes from the others. Every so often, he’d stop or slow down and lower his head, breathing deep. She chose not to mention that he was looking grayer after each time. If any of the others noticed, they also didn’t mention it.

They had just reached the pass between boulders where they began the chase for the truck, when Haavelas exhaled heavily and went limp.

“No!” Caireann cried. She and the other elf carrying him carefully slid him from their shoulders to the ground.

Multiple gasps of shock echoed at the sight of the tall elf. He was nearly as grey as the stone around them and his body was utterly still.

“Haavelass, no! Come back!” Caireann leaned over him, fingers clutching his tunic as she pressed her tears into his chest. “Come back…”

Seren looked to Legolas. His expression was grim when he turned to her. “His fea has gone.”

Caireann sobbed weakly.

One of the runners knelt to the fallen elf and said something Seren couldn’t understand but she assumed it was a last rite of some sort.

When he stood, he told Legolas, “Haavelas may find his way back to the doorway from here. He left before he became a wraith upon this land. The poison in his body, the injury that was inflicted upon him… and the shadows here… It was more than he could bear. This world is not for elves.”

Legolas nodded in understanding but Seren wanted to ask for answers. She didn’t voice any of her questions however. Another elvish woman took Caireann away, comforting her so she and Legolas stooped to pick up Haavelas’s lifeless form, intent on getting him home as they promised.

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“You should be with Legolas, protecting him,” Thranduil said, striding over the terrain with more haste than was warranted. The deep timbre of his voice carried over the group of elves and Tal heard him from his position at the back.

“He didn’t object to the human’s directives and it seemed a sensible decision,” Nuinethir replied.

He walked next to the king as they headed toward the place Seren said to meet. The ground rose and the trees grew closer together just like she had said. They went in further until the ground leveled off, the trees now so dense they could see only parts of the path from which they’d come and stopped to wait.

Thranduil went over to the human, who had started giving out food from a satchel.

“What could your sister be planning? The way we came from the doorway is to the east. She’s leading us in the wrong direction.” Thranduil checked his suspicion just enough to keep his features placid, though his eyes were hard with a warning.

Tal felt his stomach quiver from so abruptly being the focus of Thranduil’s attention (and having to address someone taller than himself). It was unnerving.

“She knows this land better than me or you. If the agents bring a helicopter up here as Seren says they claim, staying hidden with so many will be impossible. She probably intends to take us on a route the F.B.I. can’t follow.”

Thranduil regarded the man for a moment and could detect no deception from him but this world played such havoc with his senses, he didn’t know if he was simply failing to see clearly.

“She’ll be here,” Tal added, feeling a sudden need to placate.

“We shall see…”

The king considered having one of his archers put the human under armed guard to ensure that his sister cooperated but he was sure the desire was almost solely to ease his own turmoil than from any real need. The human was one against eighteen. And he had stayed to help with the orcs, taking his share of risk and injuries before the creatures fled. So he decided to wait and see what would happen next.

He didn’t have to wait long.

He was watching Tal as he continued with dispensing food and water when one of the guards he placed to watch the path behind them called out, “They’re coming!”

A great rustle of movement hissed through the forest as every elf stood and found gaps between trees to watch the path that came up the slope. Moments later, the first of Haavelas’s guard appeared, some limping or shuffling but smiling as they saw the other group.

The quickstriders were helping a wounded elf hobble along and their burden was lifted by two of Thranduil’s men when they drew near. The king spared only a glance and continued to watch the path. Though he was glad to see so many of his kin returned, he was too agitated to pretend that Legolas wasn’t his biggest concern. He stepped forward when no one else appeared and glared through the trees. A tease of something red between trees made him step sideways, trying to get a better angle.

The last of Haavelas’s guard appeared, heads down solemnly and the king felt his turmoil pick up speed. He could barely stand still as movement rustled the leaves on the ground once again and Seren came into view. An arm was draped over her shoulders and she held the limp hand, her right arm supporting the weight of her burden around the waist. Thranduil’s eyes went round with the worst assumption.

A moment later, he saw that it was Haavelas and then Legolas stepped around the tree, holding the elf from the other side. The world around him seemed to fall away and his insides clenched as his mind absorbed the sight, trying to accept what he saw. He was paler and thinner than he’d last seen him, covered in strange clothes and disheveled but it was his son. He hadn’t realized how little he believed he’d see him again until this moment.

Legolas looked up and smiled. Thranduil blinked through a misty smile of his own and inhaled deeply through his nose. _My son lives…_ He and Seren marched close enough for the nearest of the guard to take Haavelas from them and Legolas walked over to the king.

“Father.”

The two gripped each other’s shoulders and bowed their heads together before Legolas laughed and pulled Thranduil into a fierce hug, leaving him stunned at the display of affection. A moment later, he returned the embrace and it was as if Legolas was a mere child once again. He inhaled deeply and the physical reassurance eased his nerves.

“Forgive me,” Legolas said as he stepped back. “I hadn’t truly believed I’d see you again. Or home, for that matter.”

Thranduil opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Tal. “Did you really have so little faith in us?”

“Well no,” Legolas said to him. “I had many doubts; but because of you – both of you, I still had hope. Thank you.”

Confusion crossed Tal’s features and Seren smiled a small smile at them. Then her countenance darkened with the concerns at hand. “Don’t thank us just yet. We still have to get you all back to Middle Earth.”

She glanced at Thranduil uncertainly. “Many of your kin grow weak and weary with every minute they stay here. Haavelas has already lost that battle.”

All eyes fell to the deceased elf where he laid on the ground and the very air seemed to still. Thranduil looked down at him and then knelt at the captain’s side.

“I had thought you a fool but the bigger fool was I. You were first to challenge my folly and risked everything to return my son to me. You shall be laid to rest in the gardens of our kingdom, Haavelas. And none shall forget your name or speak ill of it.”

When he rose, he looked to Seren and hesitated for a long moment. “Your brother insists that you have a route we might travel. How would you recommend we proceed?”

The bright blue gaze deeply unsettled her but it felt imperative that she not break eye contact with Thranduil if she was to gain his trust. She nodded in agreement. “I do. We can’t outrun a helicopter if we’re found. It’s best that we are never seen at all.”

She asked Legolas for his map and spread it out on the ground for everyone to see. She pointed out the crescent shaped gorge and where the door to the mine would be on one side. Tal objected to using the old shafts because of the agents but she pointed out that the excavation leading into Serrano territory was never completed and wasn’t on the map. She showed them the paths they would take by placing twigs and pine needles on the paper to mark them. They would head north into the native tribe’s land and stay under a ridge of cliff shale that bordered a lake. Then they would take a cave near a waterfall to the service shaft at the edge of the mine and follow it through the mountain ridge and over the river before looping back around to the crescent gorge and coming out of the door. Once everyone understood the planned route and had studied the map, it was time to put away their supplies.

Legolas found his pack lying against a tree and stared at Tal. “You brought this? I had expected you would leave it behind considering the circumstances that arose after I left the mine last night.”

“I couldn’t let you forget your father’s present. And now I understand why it made you think of him,” Tal said with a smirk.

“Thank you.” Legolas shrugged himself into it and then had to steady himself against a tree as dizziness passed over him.

Two of Thranduil’s guards were there immediately, fussing over the prince and Seren had to stop her reflexive attempt to go to him. Tal came over to her and watched her for a moment.

“So much for getting them home by lunch time,” she quipped, though she didn’t laugh or smile. “But we will get them home. And at least he’s with his people now.”

“Seren…”

“Taliesin…”

“Are you going to be ok?”

At that she stopped and stared off into nothing for a moment. “I will be. I’ll miss him. It was like having a little brother around, you know?”

Tal nodded. “Although, he’s how many hundreds of years old?”

That provoked an honest chortle from her and then she immediately sobered. “It just… It feels like he’s already gone. I wish it was just the three of us heading back to that portal… but we wouldn’t have been able to save Legolas at all if his Royal Elfyness hadn’t shown up when he did.”

“I beg your pardon?” A deep voice said behind her.

Seren startled and heaved in a great shrill gasp. She turned to see none other than Thranduil standing there, looking confused.

Her brother collapsed against a tree, laughing loud and hard.

“YOU!” Seren pointed at him. “You just let me go on!”

Tal nodded through his tears.

“Ohhh! You give brothers everywhere a bad name, Taliesin!”

Seren looked at the rest of the elves who were all smiling or laughing at her reddened face as she tried to collect herself in front of the king. Finally she managed some semblance of calm, grateful that Thranduil didn’t seem to find scaring her senseless amusing.

“Is everyone ready to go?”

A faint smirk dimpled Thranduil’s cheeks imperceptibly and he nodded once. “Quite.”

She sighed and turned from him before she could find out if he was going to laugh too. “Alright then; follow me.”

From the rear of the group she heard her brother speaking to Legolas: “ _His Royal Elfyness…"_

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“I know it’s a no-fly zone!” Drecker shouted into his headset over the muffled whooping of the helicopter’s engines. “Except in cases of special interest or emergency – this is a special interest and it is an emergency! Now get me that permit!”

He ended the call and met the disapproving stare of the F.B.I. agent’s leader. They’d been swirling back and forth over the ridge but the Serrano tribe’s federal protections forbid them from flying into the air over their land. So Drecker had been tasked with convincing a judge to grant them a temporary permit so they could search the area.

The agents had the mine guarded – Seren knew this – so the only option she had for moving unseen was the territory that local authorities and federal personnel weren’t allowed to trespass without approval. It usually took days to secure such a thing after a lengthy review by the Serrano council – if it could be done at all – and Drecker was trying to accomplish this in five minutes.

When he shook his head for the agent’s benefit, the suit sat forward and said something to the pilot. The helicopter abruptly turned north and crossed the Serrano’s boundaries.

“What are you doing?!” Drecker looked back as if fighter jets or something would suddenly swoop in and take them out. “We can be ruined for this!”

The agent smiled. “We may not be here long enough for anyone to notice or care.”

Drecker spluttered. “The Serrano territory is massive and we have no idea where the elves are!”

“We just need to follow them.” The agent pointed at movement in the trees and Drecker saw dozens of dark figures running through the forest.

“Orcs.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Have I ever mentioned how much I loathe being in the mine?” Taliesin grumbled as they trod along a wide corridor.

“Many times,” Legolas replied dryly. “Though, it’s difficult to believe your claim when you sleep so easily in it.”

Some of the elves listening in smiled at the banter and Seren looked back when she heard the laughter. For a moment, envy crept into her thoughts. They were carefree. They had only to follow her lead and it suddenly seemed less than fair that she wasn’t a part of their levity. She shook the thought away, however and focused on their current task. The corridor they were in led directly outside and into the crescent gorge. If a portal was there, the journey to return Legolas home was near an end, an end she wasn’t ready for.

Thranduil stepped up next to her and stared at the door ahead of them as she studied it with a flashlight.

“Before we part ways, I wish to thank you... and to offer an apology.”

When she looked at him, her green eyes were wide with disbelief. She said nothing to this, so he continued, “When we met, I treated you and Taliesin with suspicion you did not deserve.”

Seren continued to gawk at him, even as he turned his attention forward. “I, uh…” she gave her head a shake, “somehow I didn’t think of you as the type to apologize.”

Then she inwardly cursed her bumbling tongue. She looked ahead then studying their path, anything to busy herself. Talking about injured feelings wasn’t something she was good at. From her periphery she saw Thranduil tilt his head thoughtfully.

“I do not often have need to apologize as I’m not often wrong.”

Seren blinked, not sure how to respond.

“Do not mistake me; it is not arrogance or pride but merely a truth. The gifts of elves are many. Some grow things their kin cannot. Some understand the land and some see more than others do. However, I failed to see that you were not the threat to Legolas that I feared.”

Strangely, a feeling of mischief settled over Seren and she smirked. “Well, you are a parent, worried for your son like any parent should be. It doesn’t excuse you, but I think you can be forgiven for your understandable lapse of courtesy.”

Somewhere deep inside, a part of Seren was gasping scandalously at having addressed the elvenking in such a way. Thranduil himself seemed confused, eyes wide as he turned her words over in his head.

“I accept your apology, king Thranduil,” she said, taking pity on him.

That seemed to be what he was looking for as a faint smile played about his mouth and he nodded placidly in return.

She looked back to the others, spotting Nuinethir as he now shouldered Haavelas’s body. The dedication they had in bringing every one of their kin home was inspiring. The weight of what that meant to them made her glad to have been the one to lead them. “Well, it’s time for the moment of truth.”

Seren closed the remaining distance to the door and slid the bolt locks out of place. The door needed two more people pushing on it before it swung wide. Fresh air blew into the tunnel and the portal back to Middle Earth shimmered a dozen yards ahead of them.

Seren looked at Tal and then to Legolas with worry. The doorway was larger than the one Legolas had come through. The shimmering oval hovered, just barely off the ground but it stood four meters tall and three meters wide. They struck out across the distance, keeping a wary eye out for orcs and the helicopter as they strode deep into the open space.

“No wonder so many orcs have managed to cross into this world,” Legolas said, gazing up at the portal. “It’s massive.”

Thranduil turned to his son. “This isn’t the passage you came through?”

Seren inwardly cursed herself. They hadn’t had time to discuss anything about the portals, so focused had they been on finding and reaching the crescent gorge.

Legolas shook his head. “I arrived through a hole barely large enough for one man and it closed immediately behind me.”

“I see…” Thranduil absorbed this information with a wide eyed expression. “Then you did not cause this rift.”

When he was met with confused stares, he elaborated. “According to what little record we have, they occur when the balance of our world is greatly disturbed.”

“You know about these?” Tal, Seren and Legolas all said together.

Thranduil nodded. “They are a myth to most who know of them and there are few who do. Until I had seen one for myself, I had never thought they truly existed.”

Tal took a step past them and stared at the portal. “So how do we close it?”

“They will seal themselves when whatever was lost is returned. If Legolas did not cause this, however orcs will still be able to pass into your world.”

“Understood,” Seren said, trying not to stare too hard at the hole between worlds. An odd feeling of suspense began to tickle her senses but she couldn’t put her finger on what caused it.

The others seemed to pick up on it too as they stopped halfway to the portal and gazed around, drawing their weapons. All at once, sound erupted around them as orcs jumped up from the water behind the portal and began dropping down into the gorge from both sides.

Seren’s stomach felt like a brick of ice dropped into it and she stumbled back from the front of their group. Tal pulled her behind him and took his sword from its sheath just in time to meet an orc head on. Their party was surrounded and orcs crashed into them with frantic delight.

Nuinethir and the runners managed to leap up onto the throng and they vaulted outside of the cluster, drawing them away and thinning the herd of monsters with arrows. Seren wiggled through an opening in the chaos, hoping she wouldn’t be stabbed unexpectedly. She pulled her blade free and ducked under an orc that was aiming for Tal. He never saw her as she passed under his arm. He staggered when he felt her blade however, and looked to see a wound bleeding profusely in his armpit. A few moments later, he lay dead in the dirt.

Once free of the swarm of bodies, she looked for her brother just in time to see an orc aiming a sword at his back. Before she could even think what she could do, a pale knife appeared in the monstrosity’s neck and Legolas came running over to the thing, pulling his dagger free as he continued on to the next orc.

She watched the elf for a moment, awed as he dove and slipped around his enemies with inhuman grace. Then a whirlwind of sliver/black metal crossed her view and she saw Thranduil, surrounded by orcs. His two swords glittered in the sun and he never seemed to waste a single movement, guarded more by his reflexes than his armor. He was a blur as he spun through the battle field, black bodies falling at his feet, only to have others take their place.

A sharp cry drew her attention and she spotted Caireann, trying to remain standing as she fended off an orc. Without thinking, Seren ran back into the melee, keeping to the edge of it. When she reached Caireann; the elf had just fallen, clutching her leg and the orc brought his weapon up for a final blow. Seren ran at him, her blade clutched too tight in her hands and drove the weapon clean through the stinking torso. Caireann gasped as orc blood sprayed her and Seren appeared from over the dying creature’s shoulder.

“Sorry!”

The elf smiled as the orc fell sideways to the ground and she hobbled up onto her good leg to help Seren pull her weapon free. They turned their attention to the others, dismayed to find a couple of their own lying in pools of blood.

Thranduil commanded a pair of elves to drag the bodies back to the portal while he and the others guarded their exit. “We must leave!”

He looked at the others and found Legolas bearing fresh cuts but nothing fatal as he took down orc after orc. Seren was staying close to Caireann and they were sneaking around the battle, stabbing orcs in strategic places. He smirked at Seren’s look of horror and disgust when orc blood splashed her face.

More orcs dropped over the ledge and the elvenking became convinced this was the legion they’d been tracking in Gundabad.

Tal pulled his sword out of an orc and moved wearily as he took a moment to scan the clearing for Seren and called her name. Instead he saw something worse.

Seren moved from behind the press of orcs when she heard her brother and found him staring at something near the north end of the gorge. She followed his gaze and gasped at what she saw. Agents stood there and a helicopter came into view behind them.

The one leading them held a long rifle of some sort and raised it.

Tal's eyes widened in alarm and he launched himself toward Thranduil.

Seren looked back toward her brother.

A loud crack filled the air and Taliesin’s mid-air flight abruptly ended as he was violently shoved back into the elvenking by the impact of the bullet.

The orcs, sensing a new threat, lunged toward the agents and several elvish arrows embedded deep into the suits as they tried to run.

Red bloomed over Tal’s coat in a large circle before the surrounding elves could even reach for him. They helped him to the ground at a stunned Thranduil’s feet.

The helicopter rose higher then and started firing at the orcs, taking them down in swaths.

For Seren, silence fell over the world and only the scream of her brother’s name, torn from her throat, seemed to echo in her ears. She ran to him. It took forever and it took no time at all. His coat had been opened and blood flowed freely from a hole over the right side of his heart.

Already his color was too pale. He would never make it to a hospital.

“No Taliesin! Don’t you do this!”

He tried to smile at her. Something angry and hot spread through her veins and the world seemed to pale.

Legolas gripped her shoulder. “Quickly! If we get him to Middle Earth, we may be able to heal him.”

Elves were scooping him up before she could nod. She looked through blurred vision toward the black bird, feeling a stranger rise within her.

“We must go while the orcs have them distracted,” Thranduil said.

A hand was placed on her shoulder and she blindly ran with the rest, stumbling into Middle Earth none too gracefully.

The elves fanned out, securing their location while the healers that had been left behind frantically worked over Tal. Thranduil looked at the scene and had to look away. Blood still seeped into the ground.

The portal still shimmered in place as he knew it would. The orcs on the other side and the humans in Middle Earth would keep it from closing. The black flying machine came into view and the gun attached to it swiveled toward them.

“CLEAR THE DOORWAY!!!”

Seren felt more than heard the helicopter. Everything seemed to dim to the color of polished steel and the ground vibrated through her feet.

When Thranduil shouted, she stood suddenly. The air around her kicked up into a desperate wind and color fled from everything. Thranduil stared at his surroundings and then at Seren, blinking in surprise when harsh white light erupted from nowhere and everywhere.

The swirling wind and press of the light’s glare forced the helicopter back, as if it had been physically pushed from the portal. It careened around the clearing and disappeared from view.

Seren stood there motionless for a moment before inhaling sharply and stumbling to her knees. The color and warmth in the air rushed back into the world as quickly they had fled.

Horror painted her features when she sat back and stared at her own limbs as if they were someone else’s.

Finally Legolas spoke, “How did you -?”

Her breath came in short pants. “I-I-I don’t know!” She turned a baleful expression toward him.

“It’s not working!” A healer said.

“Tal…” Seren scrambled over the ground to her brother. He was white as snow and blood flowed from his lips. He took hitching, gurgled breaths and fought to keep his eyes focused on her.

“Ser…”

“Shhh! They’re going to fix you.”

“I can’t! It’s not working!”

Seren looked at the healer. Another elf, presumably also a healer came forward and tried the same mantra her kin had been doing and looked up at them sadly.

“I thought you had magic!”

“I’m trying but nothing is happening!”

“Ser…”

“He has no magic,” Thranduil said quietly. The horrible realization dawned in his eyes. “There is no magic in your world. It is unknown to him, so his body cannot respond.”

“I’m sorry,” said a healer.

“Ser…en…”

She looked at Tal then. He gasped, coughing a large blot of blood out. “…promise… y-…y-our… promise… r-r-remem…ber…”

She took his hand, the cold of it stark in her hot palms. “I haven’t forgotten.”

He smiled a small smile at her, his eyes unfocused, his breath coming in weak tugs. “Take… ev…ev..” he heaved another rattling cough, “ev-ry chance…”

Seren smiled through unshed tears and lowered herself so he could see her and hear her and helped him finish, “…to laugh… to love…”

“to… l-l-l-live…” Tal pulled in one more breath and gave his sister’s hand a feeble squeeze before going still.

For a long moment Seren stared. Her eyes sparkled with tears and focused on nothing. After that long moment, she crumbled.

“Nooooo…. Tal…” She buried her face in his blood soaked chest, crying and murmuring quietly over and over, “No… Taliesin…”

Thranduil watched the woman grieve, feeling unaccountably solemn that she suffered so. The plaintive cries were heart-wrenching and it didn’t help to know that Taliesin’s sacrifice was for him. He inhaled deeply and looked to his kin. The elves stood over the prone form of the human and none dared to speak. What could be said in a moment like this?

Legolas wiped his own eyes and knelt next to Seren. He spoke the last rites for Tal, pressing his eyelids down, his movements strained and shaky as he struggled with his composure.

A faint whispering sound came from behind them and when Thranduil turned around, he saw the doorway had shrunk. It was shimmering with golden light and the image beyond was nearly lost. He hurriedly looked at Seren and then back to the portal, bewildered.

“Seren.”

When she looked, and saw the diminishing oval, she stood and stared. Then she rushed forward, not having any idea what she could do but the quivering disc abruptly condensed to a little ball of gold light. She reached for it and when her fingers touched it, the orb dissipated into nothing.

She pulled her hand back as if stung and stared at the landscape where the portal had been. She parted her lips but they merely quivered as she couldn’t decide which words to speak first.

“I’m… I, uh…” She dragged in a breath and turned from Thranduil and found the rest all similarly watching her. Her breaths started coming faster as she grappled with accepting her situation.

“Is there another one? Another doorway?”

“Not as far as I’m aware,” Thranduil said levelly.

“Could we look? If there was one, there may be others.”

“Seren,” Legolas said, watching her sadly. “We have dead to bury.”

That struck a chord with her. “Bury Tal? Here, in Middle Earth?”

“He will not wait for you to find a way back, Seren,” Thranduil said when he detected a way to get through to her. “His body will return to the earth, whether you lay him to rest or not.”

Seren swallowed the hysteria that threatened to overwhelm her and hastily wiped at the blood on her face - Tal's blood. Thranduil's words were uncomfortably true. Taliesin, Haavelas and two others lay dead. It was only right to bid them a proper farewell. She would prefer to bury Tal back home, next to their parents but that wasn’t possible.

“I can’t bury him here and then leave. It’s not home. Home is where my brother is. I can’t –”

“Then stay,” Thranduil said it as if it was the obvious answer.

“What?” She hadn’t expected that.

“Legolas told me that your own house had been destroyed by orcs. Those men, clad in black, were trying to kill you and your brother deserves to be laid to rest. You may leave if you wish or, if you desire, you may live in my kingdom for the rest of your days. True it’s not much, given all that you’ve lost but it’s the least I can offer.”

Seren’s head spun as she considered the idea. In her mind, she was still set in thinking that she and Tal would get the elves home and retire for the evening with Chinese take-out. Switching gears to such a major decision was jarring in the extreme, not to mention so wholly fantastic as to strain her grip on reality – magic, elves, portals, orcs and Taliesin dead, it was more than she could bear. Now she was being offered a home in a _kingdom_. She wanted to ask what living in Thranduil’s kingdom would mean for her. She wanted to know the rules and expectations before she agreed. She looked at Tal, lying peacefully on the ground. He would never again enjoy Chinese take-out. Suddenly where she wound up seemed unimportant.

Finally she raised her emerald gaze to Thranduil’s pale sapphire stare. “Thank you for the offer; I accept.”


	11. The House Tour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seren has many questions for Thranduil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a little bit of fluff, mostly. I'm working on the next chapter which was supposed to be part of this installment but it was just too big and still unfinished. So I hope you like this little bit. Seren is still trying to cope.

It was three day’s travel from the portal’s cave in Gundabad to the stone halls of the wood elves in Mirkwood. In that time, Seren hadn’t said or eaten much. The spider web covered trees of the forest and the gloom of its shadows didn’t seem to register to her. Not even the orc attacks bothered her terribly. She simply hid out of the way with the healers and the linen draped bodies of the dead. She knew which one was Tal without having to look.

The bloating and stench that she expected from the corpses hadn’t set in. A healer by the name of Ceridwen told her the drape was treated with strong herbs that slowed the decaying process. She might have found that fascinating if her mind hadn’t bitterly demanded to know why this couldn’t have saved her brother.

She didn’t speak the thought, however. She never spoke her thoughts. The first day of their journey, Caireann had stayed with Seren in order to be near Haavelas and to favor her injured leg. Seren learned that Haavelas was Caireann’s cousin and the last of the father-name on her mother’s side. They had been close since his father died and he came to live with his only family. Caireann and Seren didn’t talk much – they didn’t really need to – but they were both dealing with a terrible loss and there was a comfort in that. The orc encounters required Caireann’s attention however and once her wound had been seen to by a healer, she was back in her place to help guard their party. Seren missed her.

Despite her duties, Caireann made certain Seren took every meal, meager though they were. She also brought clothes for her to change into from whatever others in the group had to spare so she wouldn’t have to walk for days covered in blood. When she was pushed into a clear stream to wash off as best as could be managed, Seren had to admit it felt good to rid herself of the grime. The pants and tunic were mismatched in size color but they were soft and kept her warm.

Her former garments were added to a pile that morning and burned with the bloody and tattered remnants of everyone else’s ruined things. When she’d seen Tal’s clothes among them, her surprise must have been obvious. Caireann took her aside and explained it was necessary to make it less easy for orcs to track them.

Seren went to where her brother’s body lay on the makeshift rack and lifted the linen, finding him nude underneath. His skin had been cleaned and it was pale and clammy. The hole from the bullet looked like a harmless mole until she stared closely. She almost touched it but pulled back at the last moment, replaced the drape and hurried to a secluded spot where she retched until her stomach was once again empty.

After that, she stayed up near the front of their party and studied everything about her surroundings, even occasionally asking questions when she couldn’t distract herself enough. On the third day, she heard talk of reaching their destination by nightfall and her nerves returned. She still hadn’t a clue what living with the elves would mean for her but it didn’t seem the right place or time to ask Thranduil about it so she remained silent.

Legolas watched Seren from his place by his father. He had wanted to offer the comfort of a friend but he was as clueless to her customs on such a thing as she was on theirs. When Caireann had taken the human woman under her charge, he felt relieved if a bit sad to be left mourning Tal alone. His kin were suitably attentive to the losses of the other elves but none of them knew Taliesin.

Thranduil studied his son, taking a much considered guess as to what bothered him. He looked ahead to where Seren walked, startled (as he was from time to time) by the deep red of her hair as the sun shone off of the long braid.

“I owe my life to her brother.”

If Legolas was surprised by the sudden statement; he didn’t show it and merely nodded in agreement. “I owe them both such a debt many times over.”

Thranduil’s eyelids fluttered and he breathed deep through his nose. “He will be honored, Legolas.”

“I did not doubt that, father.” Finally, Legolas turned to him. “What is it you wish to know?”

Thranduil’s lips curved up slightly at one corner at Legolas’s directness. “I know nothing of the man who died in my stead. I only ask that you tell me about him.”

Legolas smiled. “The first thing you should know about Taliesin, is that he was a great admirer of a renowned warrior by the name of Bruce Lee.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun was low in the sky when Seren had her first glimpse the elves’ home. A few hours earlier, the forest became less ominous and had started to lighten, the air smelled fresher and the sounds of animal life returned. When they came alongside a wide river, everyone had picked up their pace and now she understood why. She stopped to stare at the tall stone arch on the far side of a bridge, also carved from the shale embedded in the ground. Trees provided colorful shade over the platform and Seren’s gaze roamed over the ornately etched surface of the wall before her as she crossed.

Elves in shining gold armor stood at attention by the doors and the great panels of stone slowly opened as they neared. Thranduil and Legolas had taken the lead, disappearing inside first and many salutations were given to their group as they passed.

The dark inside was blinding for a moment and Seren clung close the rock on her left as she followed the press of bodies over narrow stone steps until the crowd fanned out in a more open area. Her only guide was the shine of pale hair as the king and his son continued forward. Lanterns started to come to life and she slowed as the cavern before her was revealed with their glow. Everywhere – off in the distance, hovering over nothing, following every path and hanging right above her head – lights glowed softly, illuminating everything with a golden hue.

She was on a wide ledge in a dizzyingly vast chamber. Hundreds of feet away and right next to her, all around her, golden-lit corridors led from the cavern in which she stood. Paths were carved into the rough earth, leading off in every direction and arches offered a peek of paths just beyond as they led wanderers away. A set of wide spiral stairs hidden in a corner offered a way up to higher hallways. There was a central platform, surrounded by large pillars that arched out and up into the ceiling above and it was almost entirely cutoff, save for one stone walkway that meandered to it. Even from across the chasm, she could see the elevated throne that dominated the space. Briefly she wondered what kind of animal could have antlers so large. Beyond it still more lights could be seen floating through gaps as they stretched further on.

Carvings decorated the stone everywhere. Every door arch, the side of every crossing and even the thick pillars supporting the ceiling were beautifully adorned with delicate lines that wove around each other in intricate patterns. It was a stark contrast to the wild rock they were etched into.

Everyone flowed around her, some taking a moment to smile at her awestruck expression but none seemed to mind that she had stopped in their midst.

She was so engrossed in the surroundings that she hadn’t noticed she was being watched.

Thranduil felt a smirk tug on his lips as the human openly stared around her. He felt no small amount of pride for the beauty and practical genius of his home but watching others who were seeing it for the first time, helped to keep him from taking it for granted. Even with her grief weighing upon her, Seren wasn’t unmoved by the splendor of his halls. It was a promising sign.

Slowly she came out of her daze and saw that she was alone on the wide entrance ledge. She couldn’t even begin to guess where they’d taken Tal. As she gazed around, she spotted Thranduil on the central dais.

“What now?”

He gestured for her to come to him and she crossed the stone walkway, staring down in awe as more levels were revealed below. In the center of the walkway, she slowed and took a moment to let her eyes try and take it all in at once. Her vision blurred but golden shadows and little sparks of light seemed to be sprinkled all around her, as if she were caught in a jar of fireflies. She pulled her sight back into focus and resumed her journey to the throne but took one more glance behind and below her, not surprised to see more grandeur there but still startled at the vast network of stairs and paths revealed under the floor.

“Our various storerooms, armories and dungeons are down there,” Thranduil informed her as she stepped onto the platform. “Most personal chambers are to the left.” He gestured high above them and she followed the movement.

“Where have they taken Taliesin?” She asked abruptly.

Thranduil went still. He should have expected that. “He’s being prepared for tonight’s ceremony as we speak. I had thought you would prefer to refresh yourself before the evening began.”

“Tonight?” Seren’s went wide.

“Of course.”

She nodded absently and wandered away, her eyes flittering fast over everything and nothing. She closed them and took a steadying breath, struggling to find one thought to focus on.

“And where might I freshen up?” That one question started a tumble of others. “Where am I in this place? What will I do? What are the laws? Do I call you king? Can I travel if I wish? Are there any foods considered too sacred to eat? Are all citizens expected to earn an income? What –”

Thranduil held up a hand to halt the flow of words and stared at her for a moment, not unkindly. “Follow me.” He gestured out to the path and they walked along it while he considered which of her questions to answer first.

“This chamber is the central entrance to our kingdom. Most travel flows through here. Know that we do not travel to other lands for leisure. If there is business to be attended or an important gathering, we will leave then and only then. The forest beyond isn’t a safe place for an idle stroll.”

They had reached the set of stairs and Thranduil started up them without waiting to see how she was processing his words thus far. Instead he continued, “There are no foods you are not permitted to eat…” He pursed his lips, trying not to scoff at the absurdity of such a statement.

“We are sustained by the efforts of all who live here. Hunters bring meat. Those who can grow things help to provide edible crops, though the soil here is difficult to cultivate since Sauron cursed the land.”

“Sauron? Legolas mentioned him.”

”Good. Then there are some things you will already understand but we will discuss them later.”

They continued climbing the stairs, passing the second level and going higher. His silver-black armor seemed to click and ring with a rising pitch after each step.

“We also rely somewhat on trade relations with a civilization of men not too far from our borders. If you remain here, you will be expected to contribute in some way but how you do this will be for you to decide.”

They eventually reached a wide arched entrance and it led to the fourth main path she had seen since they entered the staircase and Thranduil led her along it. They followed it to the left of the cavern, under slopes of stone and to an archway central from the throne below. She gazed across the chasm behind her and saw a set of grand gold inlaid doors among even more intricately carved earth, guarded by gold armored elves and surmised it was the king’s chambers. For a moment, she wondered what such chambers would look like but shook her head a moment later for the foolish curiosity and returned her attention forward.

What followed was a confusing and beautiful maze of halls and doors that would bend one way and then another. More lanterns hovered above them, hiding behind arches that crossed over them, until they passed directly below; thus the very stone of the hall seemed to glow with its own light.

Abruptly the hall turned and sunshine streamed into the corridor from large vaulted openings on the right hand side. Through them, Seren could see a lush open area filled with plants, trees and fauna as well as large clearings where grass grew several feet high. Some things were identical to plant life back on Earth and others were foreign to her.

The expanse was vast, several acres stretched before the thicker tree line of the Greenwood in the distance. From their height, the structures below seemed tiny.

A cascade of water tumbled over the rock a short distance ahead and she could see more light glowing through the arches behind the waterfall. A small forest stood to the left while a river meandered through it and off into the horizon.

Further down, more openings and paths were cut into the rock face and suddenly Seren understood this wasn’t a small tribe of elves hiding in a cave, it was a city carved into the earth where the mountains grew high enough to protect them. Below where they stood, another arched bridge spanned the distance and offered several side paths to other areas so one could cut across to the far south entrances of the halls rather than go around through the central chamber.

“Do you not believe in railings?” Seren quipped.

“Only a fool would fall.”

He continued on and slowed before the turn where hallway disappeared to the left. He watched and waited for her to finish gazing at the gardens outside.

“It’s so beautiful here,” she said breathlessly before finally turning away.

Thranduil spared a glance at the oasis, thinking of a time when it was more than the pale reflection of its former glory and he smiled faintly.

“I expect you will pick up the finer points of our laws in time,” he said abruptly. “Those that are most important here are rather simple. I imagine you are familiar with laws that prohibit thieving, property damage and harming another person…”

“Of course, your highness; I’m not a barbarian,” she quipped.

He raised a brow and continued around the corner and she followed him deep into a golden lit cavern. It was far smaller than the main entrance and six corridors led off into places unknown like the rays of a star.

Thranduil chose a path to the left of them and they wended through a brightly lit hallway until he stopped at an open door. Through it was a small foyer. Benches on each side sat under a lantern that hung in the center over a little rug. Alcoves offered what Seren guessed were hooks for outer wear. There was no rear wall but instead a short set of wide stairs. The top was just below Thranduil’s head, offering a peek of a larger chamber beyond.

“’Your highness’ is a human salutation for human royalty. ‘Lord’ or ‘king’ will do,” he said, stopping at the stairs.

He was serious – of course he was. Seren paused as she tried to imagine uttering such a title.

“You disapprove…” Thranduil was studying her in that focused way he had a habit of doing and reading her like a book.

She drew in a breath. “No… well not really – it doesn’t matter what the word is. I didn’t grow up with a king or lord to answer to. Even if ‘ _His Royal Elfyness_ ’ was a proper title; I’d still have trouble addressing anyone with it.”

“I would agree – that… ‘title’ is absurd.”

His sour expression made her smile despite herself. The sly eye roll that followed made her wonder if that had been his intent.

“It will take time for you to adjust; that is understood. I hope you will find that, whatever freedoms you feel you’ve lost, what can be gained here is more than a fair trade.”

He turned away and took to the steps, leaving her to follow as she would.

She was trying to think of a retort but all thought of being clever fled when she finally stepped into the vast room he had led her to. Her eyes widened at the warmly lit space. A four-poster bed, freshly dressed in plum colored bedclothes, stood on the far side directly opposite her. A shaft of light ghosted over the end of it and she could see an opening high in the wall. There were other such openings that let light into the space, shining softly on the beige stone. Other furniture arrayed around the room made it clear this was a personal space, _her_ space.

To her right, a set of white curtains closed of an arch about two meters wide. Behind them was a little balcony, through which a view of a narrow chasm in the rock could be seen. The cliff face pointed sharply in and a waterfall fell over the tip and into a river that rolled over the ground below and into the Greenwood. Many balconies like the one on which she stood dotted the cliff face within the gorge on either side. The view to her right displayed the dense forest not far beyond the opening to this little glen.

She returned to the main chamber and saw another archway in the far wall and wandered inside. It was a round and plain beige stone room. The floor was impeccably smooth and the walls were faceted. A skinny stone column nestled in each crease, rising away from the wall and arcing toward the others and they all met in the center of the domed ceiling. Between the rays of the star-like shape, depictions of the moon etched in silver and surrounded by golden stars showed the phases of the lunar body.

Seren glance toward Thranduil who stood in the entrance and reached for a thick gold satin cord and pulled. A series of clicks echoed above, followed by the sound of stone sliding on stone. When she looked back to the ceiling, she gasped. The long triangular picture stones rotated down and hung open to the late afternoon sky. Sunshine streamed in, glinting off of the precious metals that had been laid into them.

“When the moon rises, you will see that these images mirror its phases and the moon will light the corresponding phase at its peak,” Thranduil informed her.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured.

She went back to the main room and turned in a circle trying to absorb the idea of this being her home, this lovely set of rooms devoid of her personal touches and she with nothing to make them her own.

“This place is… It’s overwhelming. Tal would have loved to see it.” She trailed off when she realized she’d so casually mentioned him. All at once, her good humor left her and a cold vice gripped her heart. She kept her back to the elvenking while she struggled to keep her breathing even.

When she felt less like she would crack, she faced him again. “So… this is my room?”

“These are your chambers, yes.”

Thranduil indicated another doorway near the stairs to the foyer that led to yet another small room which Seren guessed was for bathing. She had missed it.

“The ceremony will begin at dusk, Seren. Perhaps you should take some time to rest.” He stood there, awkwardly watching her, not sure what he wanted to say but certain he should offer some words.

“I cannot say I’m not glad I still live… but I regret the cost of it. It is a cruel reward fate has bestowed upon you. I would do more not to be the reason for your brother’s decision, if I could but change it.”

For many heavy moments, she simply stared at him, her emerald eyes round with disbelief. He clasped his hands together in front of himself and set his mouth in a firm line, waiting for a reply.

Finally a puff of incredulity left her. She found his demeanor endearing as he was clearly unused to owing his life to anyone. “That was… an awkwardly lovely sentiment, Thranduil. Thank you.” Then she remembered. “Oh, sorry! I mean – That is – Um…” She swallowed. Why was this so hard? It was his title! It was only a word.

“I believe I can let it slide,” he said wryly and headed toward the door. He stopped at the top of the stairs and half turned, smirking. “Just this once.”

There were many questions Thranduil wanted ask but he was aware this wasn’t an appropriate time. He was also weary of his armor so he took his leave after advising her that he would send Ceridwen for her later.

“Welcome to the Greenwood, Seren.” And then he was gone.

The door clicked quietly closed and Seren stood there, in the middle of the gorgeous room, standing on a ridiculously fine area rug the color of red wine and none of it mattered because she was alone. She wandered over to the bed and lay upon it, feeling so very tired. Suddenly the thought that she had nothing suitable for a funeral struck her and it brought tears to her eyes. She tried to blink them away but the last few days played through her mind and she could resist no longer. The room echoed with soft sobs as Seren thought of her brother and finally wept.


	12. Putting Down Roots

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New beginnings can sometimes come from an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit long. It was part of chapter 11 and originally the funeral scene was the entirety of it but some stuff was added. A lot more was taken away and stuff was shuffled around until I was finally happy with it. So I hope you all like it. As always I love hearing any feedback. Thanks for reading!

Legolas watched his father as he studied the contents of Seren’s pack. She had given it to Ceridwen for disposal but the healer brought it to the elvenking as requested so he could have a look at the things a human from that realm might have considered important. He was dressed in black trousers and a simple brown shirt, not yet fully prepared for the evening as he’d been interrupted by the arrival of the satchel.

He held up a small plastic tube for Legolas to see, a quizzical look on his face.

“Chapstick,” he said helpfully. “It’s a balm to protect one’s lips from the winter cold.”

Thranduil pulled the top off and sniffed the artificial strawberry scented substance and his nose wrinkled. He replaced the cap and set it down on the table. A hairbrush, tooth brush, gloves, needle and thread kit and a pile of sweets were already collected there.

“Father… The doorway to Earth closed with Seren still on our side of it. You said such passages close when whatever was lost through them and all things that had crossed since they opened had been returned or perished.”

Thranduil didn’t look up from the depths of the bag as he answered. “That is the nature of them, yes. I must revisit our scrolls. There are many questions that need answers. The phenomenon we saw from her must have a sensible explanation.”

“I felt magic from her then,” Legolas said. “I hadn’t felt it before or since, but I know it was there in that moment.”

Thranduil nodded his agreement. He’d felt it too. Seren’s display had called into question the very nature of what she seemed to be. He would be lying if he claimed not to be intrigued and would be still further deluding himself if he claimed he wasn’t interested in discovering if his kingdom might benefit from her secrets.

She was so weary now; that much he could see plainly. He would wait for a time when she was in better spirits to press for answers.

“She asked what she would do here,” Thranduil said distractedly as he lifted a brown leather-bound book from the human’s pack. It was clasped closed with a little brass buckle. “This doesn’t look like something one would want to discard…”

He opened it and hand drawn pictures fanned before his gaze. His eyes widened and he stopped the pages, flipping back until he found what he was looking for. He gently ran his fingers down the center between the spread pages, pressing them open further. An image of Legolas and Tal, blades locked together as they stepped in predatory circles in the sun, was displayed before him.

Legolas leaned over the desk to look and his eyes widened. “We were sparring… She must have snuck up to the door to draw this. I never even knew she was there.”

Thranduil studied the image, the construction of the window, the disc with numbers on the wall, a flat black box in a corner, weapons standing in a rack and a smaller picture of a black haired man.

“That’s Bruce,” Legolas said, pointing. “Tal had posters of him everywhere.” Legolas began explaining the things his father wouldn’t understand, relating a story of his time there with every object.

Then Thranduil turned to another page. This was just an image of Tal laughing. Another depicted an owl. Still others were of landscapes. He went back several pages and landed on another image of Legolas and his stomach lurched at the sight before him.

“This was my first night there,” Legolas said, a bit spooked Seren had so realistically captured his injuries.

“You were so badly wounded…” Thranduil had to breathe slowly, the pain the image wrought threatening to take his breath away.

The image after that was filled with shadowy shapes, seen through a vaporous circle. “Orcs,” Thranduil snarled.

“She saved me. If she hadn’t been there, I would have frozen in the snow or wouldn’t have been able to heal. She and Tal took me down from the mountain, gave me food and cleaned my wounds… They had no idea who I was but they cared for me.”

“Why was she there? What would a human be doing out in the night, in the cold?”

Legolas smiled at his father’s confusion. “She was painting. It is her greatest talent.”

He turned the page again and found his son’s scowling face. His hair was down and he looked mightily displeased. Thranduil smirked.

“The likeness she captures is remarkable.”

Legolas looked again and laughed as he took the book and studied it. “I really hadn’t wanted to do that but Seren convinced me it was for the best.”

“To hide your ears.”

Legolas smiled and flipped toward the back of the book. An image of Nuinethir fell open to him. The runner was sitting by a fire and Legolas recognized it as the first night he returned to Middle Earth. The following image showed more of those who surrounded the fire, including Legolas. After that, a sketch of Caireann was spread over the pages. She sat on her knees next to Haavelas, head bowed. The drawing stopped where strange splotches ruined the page.

Thranduil caressed the ruined area and then pulled his hand back, hurriedly flipping past the image but the next page was blank. All of the remaining pages were untouched.

“Strange,” Legolas mused. “There are none of you. She captured everyone else… except you.”

He looked at his father who simply tilted his head to one side and leaned back.

“She has a true hand for this,” Thranduil said.

He was no exception to the elves’ fierce love of the arts and he was pleasantly surprised to learn of Seren’s gift. However, he also needed to consider what practical role she could participate in. He decided he would broach the subject with her this evening.

“Do you plan to say anything for Taliesin during the Time of Recollection?”

Legolas felt his surprise steal over his features at the abrupt change in topic. He had thought about it. “I wish to. I suppose I should ask Seren how she would feel about it.”

Thranduil lifted his tunic from the chair he draped it over. It was deep green silk brocade with a satin brown lining and a gold leaf pattern on the outside. He pulled it onto his shoulders and worked the tiny hooks closed down the middle.

“You were friends with him. I fail to see what objection she might have. You have also neglected to offer her your condolences.”

Legolas eye him suspiciously. “You seem a bit… concerned for her, more than I would have expected.”

The king continued his preparations as he spoke. “Ordinarily the circumstances of one human wouldn’t trouble me, but she is unique –”

The prince frowned. “Father, if you plan to use her…”

At that, Thranduil became stern. “I do not deny that I’m intrigued by the mystery surrounding her, Legolas.” He paused, meeting his son’s glare with his own and waited until Legolas lowered his gaze.

“I am also aware that she returned you to me and it cost her dearly. Do not think I am ungrateful for that.”

“I’m sorry father,” Legolas murmured, his head down. “I will take my leave. I have my own preparations to make for the evening.”

He didn’t wait for a reply and strode from the king’s chambers in search of Ceridwen.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Seren gazed out to the crowd that gathered for the evening from behind a canvas flap. A wide white tent had been erected for the final steps in preparing the bodies for burial and elves bustled around her, fussing over every wrinkle in the deceased's clothes and placement of the many cloths on which they lay. They were all dressed in white and Tal was arranged on strips of white-silver and pale blue silk that decorated a wooden platform. The fact that the velvet dress Seren had been given matched wasn’t lost on her.

Caireann was dressed in an orange-red satin, trimmed in gold which reflected the colors Haavelas lay upon. The blood kin of the other two, Miri and Ulvir, hadn’t arrived yet but Seren thought she’d know them on sight because of the colors. That was probably the point.

When she and Caireann had made their way to the assembly in the trees, the elves had taken notice of her presence – much to her surprise. She had thought only a few would know who she was. Instead, every elf they passed stopped their conversation and placed a hand over their heart, bowing his or her head.

Many gazed upon her with sorrow. Some said a few words of regret or expressed thanks for returning the prince to them. The gratitude she was offered for Taliesin’s sacrifice, for saving Thranduil’s life, was the hardest to accept and by the time she made her way to a place at the center of the crowded circle where four graves had been dug, she felt the reality of Tal’s death that much more keenly. It hurt like a newly struck wound, so she went to the tent under the guise of checking up on Tal.

It was much harder to deny her brother’s fate with so many thanking her for it. To them, it was a joyous relief their king still lived. Her suffering, great as it was, couldn’t compare to the cost that would have been incurred if her brother hadn’t jumped in front of a bullet.

It hardly seemed fair. She couldn’t be angry at Tal for being heroic and she couldn’t blame Thranduil. She tried to hate herself for convincing Tal to go after the elves but it fell short because she knew not doing so would likely have led back to the very outcome his death had averted – or worse, all of the elves that had come to Earth would have been lost.

She could only accept that her brother was gone. He was one man and she was the only one who truly suffered his loss. It was a small price indeed.

The sound of several pairs of boots striking the ground shook her out of her thoughts and Seren looked up to see sixteen of Thranduil’s guard headed her way. She backed away from the tent’s opening and they filled the space, taking up position around each of the wooden platforms. There were polished short poles at each corner and the guards all stooped as one to grasp them and lifted the dead from the forest floor.

Caireann looked at Seren over Haavelas’s body. “It’s time.”

The simple statement was like a ton of bricks being slammed into her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs. A panic began to creep up her spine but she managed to nod and walked stiffly to the back of Tal’s palanquin.

Then she heard Thranduil’s voice.

“My kin; it is a sad day when we must say farewell to anyone and today is such a day. We will lay four of our number to rest this day.”

“Four?” Seren whispered to herself, confused.

Thranduil continued. “I say four because of the human who gave his life for mine. Had he lived, he would have been invited to remain among us and so I extend that invitation to him in death.”

Thranduil paused and Seren was grateful she was still within the tent as tears collected in her eyes.

When the king continued, he sounded slightly less composed. “I did not know Taliesin but I do know that he was a warrior. He took up our cause without hesitation, saving many of our kin as he did so. In the end he was betrayed by his own kind, by a cowardly act with a cowardly weapon intended for me. Taliesin Evans will be laid to rest here in this garden, to be honored and remembered as not just a friend but a hero to the elves.”

Polite applause met the end of the king’s words and soon he started again, this time speaking of Miri and Ulvir. There was less personal inflection of the praise the elvenking bestowed upon them but it was impressive still.

Then he spoke of Haavelas. Seren looked to Caireann and found her staring ahead at nothing while the words echoed to them. Front and center to Thranduil’s regrets about the captain’s death was that he’d doubted him and taken his disobedience personally.

Caireann’s mouth quivered in a tight line and sometimes she lowered her head and blinked the tears from her lashes. Seren considered going over to her to embrace her but the first group of palanquin bearers suddenly left the tent.

“Where are the blood kin of Miri and Ulvir?” Seren whispered frantically.

Caireann looked at her quizzically. “They have none. They were the last of their families and never married.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Thranduil watched as the bodies of Miri and Ulvir came first and those who knew them formed a line to speak about them. What they lacked in family, they made up for in friends as dozens came forward to extoll their virtues. When the last had left the center of the circle, it was time for Haavelas to be brought out. Caireann declined to speak and instead wept silently while others paid homage to the fallen captain. Thranduil surprised her when he came over and apologized to Haavelas personally.

“He knew his duty, my lord,” Caireann said.

Thranduil’s eyes hardened a little. “Yes, he did. It was I who had forgotten.”

He was beyond angry with himself for letting fear of Gundabad cripple him in his search for his own son and that a mere captain of the guard had shown more courage than he. The events with Smaug and the battle that had followed the dragon’s death had cost them dearly. Five years later the kingdom was still too vulnerable and his fear of having that vulnerability exploited had clouded his judgment. Haavelas had been right to go to Gundabad.

Caireann blinked and nodded in acceptance of the king’s admission. He returned to his place at the head of the clearing and Tal’s bearers appeared from the tent, Seren following close behind.

Thranduil felt a faint lurch in his stomach when the procession came around a bend and headed straight toward him. He almost didn’t recognize her. Her hair flowed around her in spiral waves, shining in the firelight and contrasting with the pink alabaster skin revealed by the collar-bone exposing neckline of her dress. The velvet was a shade of blue the color of a robin’s egg and trimmed with white-silver lace that caught the light as she walked. A girdle of satin in the same pale silver hue was draped low around her waist, accentuating a physique toned by years of running over mountaintops.

 _Well, under the heavy clothes, leaves and dirt smudges, she is rather fair. For human…_ he thought to himself objectively. When she lifted her gaze to the crowd before her as she neared, his objectivity faltered and he turned away before thoughts that were not worth his time could take hold.

The four of his guard entered the circle and set Taliesin down next to the hole meant for him and stepped out of the clearing for Seren.

Silence reigned, smothering and hot and she felt as if the entire Greenwood was looking upon her, waiting for her to begin. She forced herself to breathe and started forward into the center of the circle. She couldn’t look at Tal, though she wanted to, lest her barely held composure crumble. She couldn’t look at Legolas because memories of laughing with him and Tal made her want to weep. The sight of Thranduil replayed that awful moment when Tal’s chest bloomed with red.

So she looked at the scores of unfamiliar faces around her, waiting expectantly. She wasn’t sure what they wanted her to say. She almost chose to decline this moment but Taliesin deserved to be remembered, by her most of all. She spotted Ceridwen in the crowd, who offered her an encouraging smile.

She gulped down the hitching in her breath and inhaled, making herself go still. “I’m thankful you’re all here, even though you never knew my brother. I want his sacrifice remembered not as a rare case of spontaneous selflessness but rather, simply how Taliesin was…” She paused, choking a little on her words and swallowed.

“I just never thought that what made him an amazing brother and a good person would also be what took him from me.” Saying it out loud made her voice waver and she breathed until it evened out again.

She looked at Thranduil then, whose eyes shone a little too bright and she smiled. “But I’m grateful his death has meaning. He died the way he lived: being the noblest fool I know.” A few faint smiles met that statement.

“Taliesin has always been a hero to me. He never thought about the cost of his actions. He only thought of what he needed to do to make a real difference. He once said that meeting someone who was suffering in any way broke his heart.” She smiled then, a memory worth sharing coming to her.

“One Christmas, he took the name tags off of his presents and gave them to another kid who had been stranded in our town when his father was injured and in the hospital. He would sneak food from our kitchen to a kid whose parents were too poor to buy much. The reason we started a garden was to help this family, but Taliesin was the one who thought of it. When our parents died, he gave up his personal ambitions and moved back home because he and I were the only family we had. I don’t know how I would have made it through those times without him.” _Now he’s the one who’s gone. How will I get through this?_

New tears welled in her eyes and she lowered her head for a moment to breathe. She inhaled; face hot and swallowing thickly as she continued.

“As a child I was sick for a long time and he was always there. He never wanted me to be alone and he never complained that I couldn’t run and play or tumble and climb trees like he wanted to. He never said a word about me being too weak to do things for myself and having to do them for me. When I couldn’t be at his martial skills tournament, he refused to go and said 'There’s always next year. Seren might not have a next year and I don’t want to miss a day.’”

Seren’s voice had begun to crack and her lips trembled but she had stopped caring as she recounted the ways she remembered Tal best. “Every holiday and birthday, his wish – to Santa, to the Easter Bunny and to whatever fates that listened – was for me to be well again. He swore that if I got better, he would be the best brother to ever live. And he was...”

She had to stop. She couldn’t breathe right and no amount of wiping at her eyes would dry them. She stared at the ground where Tal’s body swam in her vision. “He was…”

She knelt in the dirt, heedless of the beautiful dress and kissed his brow. “You were the best brother, Taliesin; the very best.”

She sat back on her bare feet and allowed a few sobs to escape and no one tried to fill the silence. A moment later she rose again and surveyed the sea of faces, some of whom discreetly wiped their own eyes. She felt there was more she should say but every sentence she thought of made it hard to breathe and tears would well in her gaze again.

Finally she settled on a simple “Thank you.” And backed away, turning to face the trees. Her shoulders shook slightly while she cried softly.

Thranduil moved between her and the crowd to shield her from view and nodded to Legolas who assumed Seren’s place.

For a long moment, he stood there and searched for what he could say. He began by smiling. It was a wide and joyful grin and everyone seemed unable to refuse returning it. Even Thranduil’s features widened as he watched his son.

“I didn’t know Taliesin for very long and yet, it feels as if I’ve lost a brother.”

When she heard Legolas’s words, Seren wiped her face dry once more and returned to the edge of the clearing, not far from Thranduil. She was aware of his gaze in a remote way but didn’t acknowledge him. There were many such gazes upon her and the pity would be more than she could take.

Legolas saw her and smiled before continuing. “I know he would have belonged among us had he lived. He was easy to like and impossible not to admire. Many speak of always looking to better themselves but Tal lived it. He helped Seren take me in and was always ready to assist, regardless of how hard the task was.”

Legolas glanced at Seren, wondering what she would think of his next words. “He was a loyal big brother and I often felt that kinship included me, a stranger with strange clothes and strange ears and a strange tale about where I’d come from.”

At that, Seren smiled despite herself.

“I saw for myself the type of man Taliesin was many times during my days with him but never so much as when he saved my father. He acted to save a life without questioning it. His belief in what was right was an innate part of him and he was generous beyond measure. He was a treasured friend and I know I am richer for having known him at all. The regrets I have about his passing are too numerous to name and I would be honored to share his memory at any opportunity. Taliesin deserves to be remembered.”

Seren blinked. Legolas invited people to discuss his grief? Who did that?

He walked over to one of the elves standing on the perimeter of the circle and took up one of two blades. It was white and silver like his old knives, one half of a matched set Seren realized when she looked back to its mate still held by the other elf. Then Legolas went to another who stood holding a folded bundle and flipped back the soft suede. He raised another blade and Seren immediately recognized the eagle’s head pommel.

“This was a gift Taliesin gave me when my own weapons were lost to me.” He held the golden blonde dagger high for a moment for all to see. “He said to me, that a warrior without a weapon was no warrior at all.”

Seren swallowed and the tears she thought she’d finally beaten back began to roll silently down her cheeks again as Legolas knelt by Taliesin and placed the mismatched blades on either side of him. “May you pass through the halls of Mandos and find your eternal rest, my friend.”

Legolas stood and when he looked at her, she smiled approvingly and he seemed to visibly relax. A slow tune played by harp and flute began to drift through the air and the hundreds of elves gathered into a long line that spiraled around a mound of loose earth standing amidst the trees in the rear of the clearing. Three other such mounds were also hidden around the clearing just inside the tree line.

The four royal guards assigned to Miri gathered the bright strips of cloth she lay on and lifted her from the wooden platform and lowered her into the ground. Ulvir’s guards went next, followed by Haavelas and finally Taliesin. They were slow and methodical, sliding the satin between their hands and keeping their burden level until it rested on the floor at last.

The tune of the music changed and the line of elves moved. As they passed the first mound of earth, they scooped their cupped hands into it and wended their way through the trees to Miri’s grave. The procession flowed gracefully around it and each elf dropped their cargo over the body and offered “Farewell Miri,” before continuing back into the woods toward the next pile.

They did the same to Ulvir’s grave as well but when they arrived at Haavelas’s grave, they paused and looked to Caireann. She nodded and it was only then they repeated their well-wishing, leaving their handful of soil over the dead elf. As others followed, a nod was all Caireann could manage as she wept over Haavelas.

The line progressed to the mound of earth that belonged to Taliesin and Seren turned her head watching them. Ceridwen slipped up next to her, startling her.

“What are they doing?” Seren asked her, a little panicked as the first of the elves rounded back toward Tal’s grave.

The healer smiled. “They will leave the soil over your brother regardless, but since they did not know him, if they wish to acknowledge him directly, they must ask for your approval.”

The first of the elves stopped on the opposite of Tal’s resting place, an expectant look on his face. Seren nodded, feeling somewhat numb. The man offered “Farewell Taliesin” and moved on.

Everyone that followed looked to her and waited for her to nod. Some offered thanks or simply said goodbye. These people, who had no affiliation to Taliesin, mourned that his life had ended. A handful of dirt didn’t seem like much but hundreds of handfuls, every one of them given with an acknowledgement, soon filled the gap in the earth where Tal rested.

Seren felt keenly the desire to run and hide away as her emotions refused to remain checked. She breathed and wiped at her face and straightened her back.

Next to her, Thranduil spoke low and for her ears alone. “You are not expected to maintain your composure and no one will think less of you for mourning your brother.”

She glared up at him. Maintaining composure was the last thing she’d call the past hour. Every moment, she was on the verge of coming undone and sometimes she slipped over that edge. ‘Maintaining composure’? Ha! She turned to walk behind him but an arm shot out in front of her ribcage, barring her exit. It may as well have been made of steel.

“You must stop fighting your grief.”

Seren’s jaw clenched. The urge to crumple into the shoulder before her nearly overwhelmed her. The one thing she was missing was the kind of comfort only a close friend or family could offer. The one person who could have comforted her was the reason she needed it so badly but she was not about to water the king’s collar.

Slowly she gripped his sleeve around the forearm and bicep and he stared at her quizzically.

“There is something I must do.” She pressed her body weight into it and pushed, forcing him to step away.

Legolas gawked at her back, expecting his father’s ire and more surprised when it didn’t come and he instead, simply watched her go.

There was still some dirt where the mounds had been and Seren went first to Miri’s and offered a farewell. She did the same for Ulvir but when she reached Haavelas, she waited in front of Caireann. The other woman blinked in surprise and slowly nodded. Seren knelt to the little hill of earth and patted her soil into it.

“I’m so sorry Haavelas. If only we had freed you sooner…” Tears welled in her eyes again and she patted the ground blindly. “But you did it; Legolas is home now. Rest well, my friend.”

She stood, pretending not to notice she was being watched by the entirety of the elven kingdom, and continued to the remnants of Taliesin’s mound and carried it to his grave.

Everyone watched as she knelt again and patted the dirt in her hands to the gentle slope covering Tal.

“You were the very best brother, Taliesin; the best brother that ever lived.” Finally, sobs that she knew she’d never be able to stop began to rattle her. “And I’m here without you… it’s not fair! You weren’t ever supposed to leave me! But I know you’d be the first to tell me it couldn’t have been any other way. A-a-n-nd I would hate that you’d be right, you big dumb hero! But you were never just my hero, were you? If those fates are listening, I hope they treat you like royalty. You more than fulfilled your promise… and I won’t forget mine: to laugh, to love, to live… every chance I have.”

Her head lowered as she cried steadily and she didn’t immediately notice the shadows that fell over her. When Ceridwen knelt and wrapped her arms around her shoulders, she looked up and saw Caireann, Legolas and Thranduil all standing over the grave, their hands cupped around soil. She rose to her feet, her features slack in shock and she nodded slowly; first for Caireann who thanked Tal. Tears began again in her eyes when she told Haavelas to help him find his way home and Seren couldn’t help joining her.

When Legolas paused, she nodded blindly and listened to him bid his friend farewell. Then it was Thranduil’s turn, waiting for her to allow him to address Taliesin. She stared across the distance at him and the nod, when she finally gave it, was the heaviest of all.

Thranduil inhaled sharply and looked down. “I owe you the greatest of debts, Taliesin and my gratitude is immeasurable. Go swiftly on fair winds and may you take no burdens with you.” He lowered his hands, tipping the soil from them to fall gently to the ground.

Seren breathed deep, still not beyond the urge to sob grossly and steadied herself. “You needn’t worry about me anymore. Tal.” She patted the dirt down on his grave. “Home is where you are, remember? So I am home.”

Warmth suddenly spread through her hands and rose through her arms and Seren gasped. A feeling of fullness spread through the air and a warm breeze stirred, picking up speed until it swirled all around them. It blew through the trees, bringing a sweeter air than anyone could remember in a very long time. Leaf-litter was lifted and blown away. The deepest shadows appeared to shrink back and the moon above seemed to glow more brightly.

An awareness of the earth underneath her flooded Seren’s mind and she felt it settled against her consciousness. _Home…_

As quickly as it started, it faded but the tug on Seren’s mind remained and the landscape around her seemed suffused with color she hadn’t noticed before. She gazed up as the breeze continued to carry away bits of grass, leaves and petals and felt a very real sense that it was Tal leaving.

“Goodbye Taliesin…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Among the softly glowing trees of Lothlorien, Galadriel stopped mid-step and stared into forever. She wasn’t often overcome with a vision, instead seeing most everything that was possible to see in her mirror. Those around her watched, curious as to what could have made their lady pause as she did. Not a single movement could be seen in her, save the slight rise of her breath but in her eyes a great sight began to gleam.

“Guardian of the Trees… defender of the white maiden… forsaken to the rage of kin…”

She gasped and disbelief settled on her features.

“My Lady?”

Celeborn came to her then and took her hands in his, concern etching his golden brow. Her eyes were unfathomable depths of blue as she gazed upon him. Of all the amazing sights she had seen in her years, this new vision she found impossible to believe. She dared not speak of it, not until her own eyes beheld the truth.

“I must go to the Greenwood.”

 


	13. A Strange Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's an epidemic of "I don't know" going around.

A week after Taliesin was laid to rest, the weather was still fair. The nights were chilly, a harbinger of the winter; but the days still echoed with the warmth and color of autumn. Seren rose from her bed and stopped to draw in a deep breath from her balcony before pulling on a simple dress the color of sage green. She liked the corset lacing in the back. The ties were a deep brown and they matched the leaf-patterned embroidery that decorated the neckline, shoulders and hems. The reinforced vertical stitching around the ribs offered more support than the softer dresses she’d been given and yet was still flexible and moved with her.

She also had an array of trousers, shirts and shifts in varying colors of rust orange, deep berry, various tones of earth and some striking shades of green, but the fabric was a bit abrasive to her skin in tender places. She’d have to ask about how she could acquire sturdier undergarments. But for now, the dress would do. She picked up the brush Caireann had given her when she first arrived and admired the polished silver swirls laid into the wood. After she brushed and plaited her long red tresses, she padded down to her foyer and opened the door. She returned to her balcony, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

Soft footsteps sounded in the corridor, followed by Ceridwen’s appearance a moment later. She was holding a try of food aloft, as usual. The healer mounted the steps from the foyer and strolled to the table she always set Seren’s breakfast on.

  
“How are you?” the elf asked, appraising the other woman’s appearance.

  
Seren sighed and turned from the view outside. “Same as I’ve been since yesterday. And the day before that… and all the days you have asked. I’m left to wonder why you keep doing so.” She smiled fondly.

  
Ceridwen returned the expression. “I keep doing so because one day, the answer will be different.” Suddenly her smile widened over her features. “And I do believe today is that day.”

Seren thought about that. Thus far, when Ceridwen asked about her, the reply Seren gave was ‘I’m still here.’ It was a lament against the reality of her situation; to the elves who worried she would slip away from despair and to Tal for leaving her behind. She always looked to the direction of his burial site and her eyes never failed to sting; _‘I’m still here…’_

Today was no different. Yet she was up with the sun and ready for the day long before the healer arrived. Usually breakfast was left for her to eat in silence. The elves seemed to be giving her space, presumably to grieve – and she had – but she didn’t want to spend the day sobbing over how alone she was because her brother was gone. Perhaps that was what changed. Today, wallowing in her grief didn’t feel like a compulsion she couldn’t contain and seemed more like a torture she didn’t wish to put herself through if she could help it.

“Have you eaten, Ceridwen?”

  
The elf blinked, clearly not expecting the response. “I see to my patients before I take my morning meal.”

“I’m your last patient.” It was true. Ceridwen saw to everyone else before checking in on Seren and bringing her more fruit, bread and cream than she could eat.

“Come; break your fast with me. I could use the company.”

“And where would we sit?”

Seren looked around eagerly, her long braid swinging around her. She had no chairs as she usually just sat on the bed. That would have to be remedied. She pointed to the area of the merlot colored rug, bathed in the morning light. “The floor should do this once.”

  
She retrieved the tray while Ceridwen sat in front of the balcony’s arch. Once Seren had settled herself and had an apple wedge half way to her lips, the healer abruptly shook her head.  
“What?”

  
Ceridwen smiled. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

  
Seren sighed and smiled simultaneously, a calm expression. “Of course I was serious.” Her smiled faded and she inhaled a long breath. “I’m just tired of being alone.”

  
Ceridwen laid a gentle hand on Seren’s shoulder. “You’ve needed the time to heal. There are many who would love to meet you properly.”

  
“Really? That’s… surprising.” Seren lowered her head as she mumbled.

“Is it?”

“Well… everyone had a chance to say what they wanted the night we buried Tal and the others.”

Ceridwen nibbled on a grape. “True, but they haven’t really met you. They’re very curious about you: a human from another realm – a realm of flying machines – and one that has harnessed the light of angry gods? One who makes the trees sway in the wind with a touch, who haunts the libraries at night and who doesn’t call our king by his title? They’re very intrigued,” Ceridwen finished with a smirk.

  
Seren flushed. “I don’t know what happened with the trees during the burial.” Indeed, no one seemed to have any idea what occurred. She had decided it was a weather oddity like what happened before at the doorway but Thranduil and Legolas had both looked her as if she’d grown a second head. Thankfully she hadn’t been expected to stay once the Time Of Recollection had ended and she took the opportunity to flee back to her rooms with Ceridwen’s guidance and cried until her head hurt and exhaustion claimed her.

  
She returned her attention to the present. “I’m in the libraries at night because I feel like I’m in the way during the day.” She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at her friend. “I also found what I think is a child’s learning card for written Elvish. I’ve been using it for a project.”

  
Ceridwen grinned. “If you wish to learn, I can see that you are taught.”

  
Seren nodded after a moment. “I’d like that.” She tried to leave her reply at that but Ceridwen looked at her expectantly until she caved. “As for the king…” She huffed as the elf grinned. “Where I’m from, royal families are rare and those that exist are symbolic more than anything. The time of kings is a distant memory. I’m simply not accustomed to having a king to answer to or address and so I keep forgetting. I’ll remember it one of these days.”

  
Ceridwen sighed, a faraway look in her gaze. “Such a strange place, your Earth; tell me about it.”

  
For the next hour, they passed the time eating and idly chatting about Seren’s world and how it compared to Middle Earth and Seren took the opportunity to regale the healer with Legolas’s experiences on Earth. The tale about the cooking knives amused her greatly. Soon enough however, Ceridwen had to return to her duties and Seren insisted she would find her way and take the tray down to the kitchens.

  
Or rather, she tried to. The cavern she now called home was vast and she had to double back from more than one dead end and wrong turn. As she wandered, she met many elves who startled when they saw her. Some clasped their breast and bowed their heads before continuing on and others walked alongside her for a while asking and answering questions. Like Ceridwen, they were fascinated by what they heard of Seren’s realm and only too glad to satisfy Seren’s curiosity about their home. Once satisfied, they wandered back to whatever task they had left unfinished.

  
Her most recent visitor was a young girl of maybe ten years and possessed of a meter’s length of pale golden locks. As they walked and Seren answered still more questions, she found herself following the child as they strolled. She kept Seren talking so much that she hadn’t really noticed. Suddenly the scent of fresh baked bread filled the air and at the end of the hall they were in, a door stood open. The girl led her to it.

  
“You can put your tray in here,” she said brightly, the pointed tips of her ears flushing red.

  
They entered a vast room with three small stone doors set chest high on the far wall. An elf opened one and Seren saw golden rounds of bread within. The room was hot and smelled strongly of spices and yeast. A long, wide wooden counter dominated the center of it. There were elves kneading dough and chopping and mixing things there while more were perusing a tall shelf of ingredients. It rose to the ceiling high above and a rolling ladder allowed them to reach little catwalks for one of three levels of shelves. A basket on a pulley at the end allowed them to send down their selections so they could climb the ladder with both hands. Opposite the pantry and near the door, a rack of wine bottles stood, glittering like a setting of rubies bearing every shade of red.

  
“Wow.” Seren looked around her. The kitchen was a bright and warm space. The elves called out to each other in a good humor, though Seren didn’t understand the words.

“Menui!” A plainly dressed elven woman with gray eyes and brown hair approached them and paused when she noticed Seren.

Seren waved and smiled. “Hello.”

The other woman smiled when she saw the empty platter. “It’s about time you managed to finish a full breakfast! I was beginning to think I’d have to complain to Lord Thranduil that his guest was being wasteful.”

Seren’s eyes went round. “Oh! I do eat – It just takes me some time and they remove the tray before I’m done…” Seren blinked.

The woman was chuckling. “It’s alright dear. I was more concerned that you weren’t eating enough.” She took the tray and laughed as Seren stood there looking confused. “It’s good to see you’ve an appetite now.” She placed a hand on the child’s back. “I see you’ve met my daughter, Menui.”

Seren smiled down at the girl. “So that’s your name?” A nod was her only answer.

“My name is Seren.”

“I know,” the girl said. “Is that all of your name?”

Seren’s eyebrows rose. “Well no. My family name is Evans. My given name is Seren Aneira.”

“It’s a pretty name,” Menui decided with a grin. Then she looked up at her mother. “Wait until the others hear I met the human!”

The girl scampered from the kitchen, leaving the two women giggling.

“She has been so curious about you,” the elven woman said. She placed a hand over her chest and dipped her head. “I am Nuineri, First In Order of this kitchen.”

“Wait…this kitchen? How many are there?”

Nuineri laughed. “Fifty six; a kingdom this large requires a lot of food,” she added at Seren’s look of shock.

“How many live here?”

Nuineiri’s expression became distant and she went to a shelf, picking two empty baskets and handing one to Seren. “We need some vegetables from the gardens. Will you accompany me?”

“Of course.”

They wandered the halls and Seren studied them politely, having given up on memorizing every turn. They’d descended many stairs and Seren waited while her companion considered her thoughts.

“We once numbered just over eleven thousand…” the elf said as they reached a long room with a high ceiling and four doors. The light peeking through the bottom of each was sunlight and they went through the nearest one out into the daylight.

“But the king took seven thousand to the battle at Erebor. Barely half that number returned.”

 _A population reduced by nearly a third…_ Seren winced. “I am sorry. That’s awful…” She gazed around her at the wild and overgrown path they were on and considered her companion’s words. They were heavy with grief. “You lost someone to that battle,” Seren stated.

Nuineri glanced wide-eyed at the human. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you’d pick up on that. The loss of blood kin is so recent for you.”

The corners of Seren’s mouth rose in a sad smile as she continued to watch the stone they traveled over.

“My husband fell in that battle. As did my brother – it’s been five years…”

Seren closed her eyes against images of her own brother’s demise. “Does it get any easier?”

Now it was Nuineri who smiled. “Elves live for so long… we grieve very deeply and for many years. The passage of eternity is eased by those we love so each loss takes away some of the light that makes our time on Arda endurable. I suspect you know that loss is never a light burden. Elves have given up their physical forms from the despair of it. But when you lose the last person you have to lose, no burden is heavier. Without Menui, I might not have been here to chide you for your habit of leaving a half-eaten breakfast.”

Both women smiled about that.

“You must find your own reason for continuing on.”

“I’m still searching,” Seren replied.

The path sloped upwards and when they crested a gentle round hill, Seren saw the vegetable garden. It was vast. Neatly cultivated rows spread before them and Nuineri led Seren to the rows of beets and carrots.

“I will get the beets,” Nuineri said. “Fill the basket with as many carrots as you can.” The elf started to turn away but she doubled back a moment later. “I’m sorry. I’ve assumed you are familiar with this. Do you need me to show you which are ready for picking?”

She seemed so abashed and concerned that Seren laughed. “No. I’ve kept a garden most of my life, including carrots.”

“Oh good!”

Nuineri returned to the beets and Seren put herself to the task of pulling up orange stalks. She didn’t mind the dirt or the bugs, finding a fascination with everything that grew. It might have been her brother’s idea to plant a garden all those years ago but he wasn’t the one with a green thumb. This was familiar. She knew when a plant’s fruit was ready to be plucked and she knew when a garden was ill. The stretch of manicured rows, pretty as they were, showed signs of a fungal rot. The soil carried a scent of something pungent that it shouldn’t have and she spotted the occasional mushroom cap. She decided to ask Nuineri about procuring tea tree oil. She chuckled to herself when she thought she might have to explain what it was. Not everything here had the same name or use as she knew it to have.

In the distance from where she worked, the clearing was fenced in at the back by a dense thicket of brambles and dead trees. Seren stopped more than once to look in that direction. The strange tugging in her mind had diminished to a low pressure in the days since Tal’s burial and she had nearly forgotten it, thinking it a passing oddity. Now, however, it pulsed in her awareness whenever she stared at the bent and gnarled bark in the distance. The urge to cross the field felt like it was imperative, as if she had heard a cry for help.

“Ah! Good!” Nuineri exclaimed as she returned and saw the basket full of carrots. When she noticed where Seren’s attention was focused, her smile faded.

“Do you not feel it?” Seren asked her, looking from the briar patch to the elf.

“I feel sad when I gaze in that direction.”

Seren shook her head. “No… I mean something else…”

“Like what?”

Before Seren could consider how to explain, Menui called from across the field. “Mother!” The child sounded distraught and she ran as fast as she was able. “Mother!”

Seren could see she held a tiny soil pot in her hands and the girl was crying. Nuineri bent a knee to the ground and caught her daughter as she all but collapsed from her frantic run.

“Look!”

Menui held up her little pot and Seren could see a seedling drooping within. “No matter what I do, my Niphredil keeps dying! I wanted it to bloom for winter!” Menui sobbed and let Seren take the tiny pot from her as she buried her face in her mother’s neck and cried.

Nuineri sighed and embraced her daughter, her gaze on Seren as she studied the plant. In her hands, it felt like a tiny flame that was dying out. She brought it to her nose. “You used the soil from here in the garden?”

Both Menui and Nuineri looked at her. “We did,” Nuineri said.

She sniffed it again. “I can’t be certain but I think there is a fungal infection in it. I kept finding mushrooms as I picked carrots.”

Nuineiri’s face went slack in shock. “What? We’ve already lost two of our crops this year to this.”

“Do you have any tree oils? Something strong and that smells almost like mint?”

The elf’s face registered confusion. “We’ve tried that. The quantities we’d need to use would kill the crops as surely as the infection.” Then her eyes went wide. “We should apply it to the other crops as a preventative! I’ve been so busy with harvest, I didn’t think of it!”

Seren smiled and then returned her attention to the ailing plant in her hands. Suddenly, a shudder of strange energy cascaded through her and an unfamiliar stillness fell over her mind. She breathed over the little leaves and the seedling stood up from the prodding. As her lungs expelled the air, something from within her pressed against the awareness of the Niphredil. When she stopped, it remained standing.

Menui gasped and gently caressed a green leaf. The stalk allowed the pressure without buckling. “It’s strong!”

Seren blinked, feeling though she was waking from a dream. She stared at the plant, now standing on its own.

“How did you do that?” Nuineri asked as she examined it.

“I don’t know.” It was an answer Seren was beginning to tire of but she had no explanation. The seedling was looking alert and Seren imagined it already appeared larger as she handed it back to Menui.

“Thank you!” She hugged Seren and backed off a moment later, smiling down at her plant.

Nuineri was still watching her and Seren chewed on her bottom lip. She gazed down at her hands. The elf tentatively touched the skin of her palm, frowning when nothing happened.

“What are you?”

Seren shrugged and for the first time, she had to believe that perhaps there was something strange about her. “All of my life I’ve been an ordinary human.”

“All of your life, you’ve lived in a world without magic,” Nuineri replied with a smile. “Perhaps here, in Middle Earth, you are not so ordinary.”

The thought frightened and intrigued Seren and she considered what it could mean as they gathered up the baskets, now brimming with beets and carrots, and headed inside. Menui took off, chattering excitedly about showing her friends the Niphredil.

One of Nuineri’s kitchen staff was waiting for the First In Order and immediately began a conversation about the night’s menu so Seren let them draw ahead of her and followed through the network of walkways and stairs at a leisurely pace. She was glad when they rose from the dank lower floors to the brighter and warmer levels.

She had just passed through the main floor landing and turned toward the kitchen when a shadow fell into place beside her.

“I trust you are being treated well?”

Her insides jumped at the sudden presence and deep tone as Thranduil fell into step next to her. She spared a glance his way, having to raise her head more than she remembered for his height and found herself appraising his appearance. He was dressed in a long shimmering gold tunic with a high collar that he left open and a crown of berries and twigs stood up from the back of his head, arching down over his ears and framing his cheekbones.

Finally she met his gaze and was struck with just how bright his eyes were. Following Tal’s death, she had been too preoccupied but seeing him again, this close, she found him imposing and the faint scent of cloves drifted to her from the strands of white blond hair as they walked. She liked cloves. Abruptly she forced her attention back to the approaching kitchen door.

“Hmm,” she pretended to think about his words. “I’ve not been out much but what time I have spent among your people has been pleasant.”

Thranduil kept his gaze ahead. “Good. Ceridwen tells me you’ve been absent from your chambers since breakfast. And your,” he paused and she had to turn back a step, “labors are obvious.”

It sounded casual enough but Seren felt as if she was being measured and couldn’t help the blush that crept over her cheeks because of her appearance. Her dress was covered in dirt patches and she knew she likely had bits of earth in her hair from her habit of tucking back flyaways regardless of whether her hands were clean.

“I was helping Nuineri in the garden, picking root vegetables. I like carrots.”

Thranduil’s gaze fell to the basket in her arms and he seemed to consider them. “Beets on the other hand…”

He cast a glance down the now-empty hall at the open kitchen door. His features pinched into the same sour expression that had made Seren smile before and a giggle escaped her. When he looked at her, eyebrow raised, she clamped down on the grin.

“Sorry,” she said half swallowing air and giggles. “I don’t like beets either.”

He inhaled sharply. “So is this what you do?” He began walking again, clasping his hands behind his back and she kept pace with him.

“Painting was how I made a living.” A sobering thought struck her and she mumbled, “Though I suppose it’s not a very useful skill here… Gardening has always been a leisure hobby for me. In recent years, I was growing a greater variety of vegetables so I wouldn’t have to go into town as often for food.”

Thranduil tilted his head once in approval. “Self-sufficiency is a worthwhile endeavor.”

They reached the kitchen door and Seren turned to pause, expecting the elvenking to take his leave. Instead he walked past her and into the stuffy room. It was telling that none of the elves stopped in their work to address him or acknowledge him beyond a polite “Excuse me,” as they slipped around him to continue their tasks. She spotted Nuineri waving her over to a large pot boiling on a fire and she did as bade. The carrots were lifted from her and dumped unceremoniously into a nearby sink where two elves began scrubbing them and handing them to off to another pair of elves to be sliced and added to the pot.

When Seren turned back to Thranduil, he was picking and nibbling morsels from a sweet roll as he surveyed the kitchen. Seren couldn’t help it; her grin returned. After a moment, he seemed to sense her attention.

She ducked her head and chuckled. “You don’t care for beets and you slip down here before dinner and sneak a sweet roll?”

He paused and then swallowed. “I like them,” he said a little defensively.

Nuineri and a few who had stopped when Seren spoke, grinned and then turned to hide their expressions, some trading sly glances between each other.

“Is that a problem?” Thranduil asked, his head tilting ever so slightly.

Seren shook her head and looked down at her shoes. She managed to restrain another giggle but her smile wouldn’t fade. Finally she looked up. “Of course not, my lord.”

At that, his lips parted and his brows rose a little and then his eyes narrowed skeptically. “Have you been practicing that?”

Seren winced. “More than I want to admit.”

Now it was his turn to smirk. “Of all the revelations you could offer, that is the one I’m least interested in.”

Seren inhaled deeply. Thranduil wanted talk. “Of course.” Nuineri nodded when she looked to her and Seren took long purposeful strides from the kitchen.

The king didn’t immediately follow her and when he did appear, he had another sweet roll. She didn’t know why she found it so amusing but she had to bite her cheek and stared ahead, waiting for their walk to begin.

However, he called her name and when she turned, she saw he actually had two of the rolls and held one out for her. “Compliments of Nuineri,” he said when she hesitated.

“Thank you.” She took it and tore a small piece from the warm bread and started walking. When the morsel touched her tongue, she stared at the roll.

“They are quite good,” the king said.

“They are,” Seren agreed, choking on a well of sudden emotion. “It’s reminiscent of Tal’s honey bread.” _When will everything stop reminding me of him?_ She sighed, forcing the thought away, putting another piece of the roll in her mouth.

They walked for a time in silence, passing doors and stairs. Whenever someone happened upon them, they paused and bowed their heads to Thranduil with an utterance of “My lord,” before continuing on. It was surreal for Seren to see such casual observation of their king when she could barely manage to use his title directly.  
When they entered a set of empty stairs and started up, Thranduil finally spoke. “I can’t help noting that you had made considerable efforts to remove yourself from the humans around you on Earth. Why?”

Seren blinked. It wasn’t the question she expected. “I simply preferred the company of my family. In their absence, I was content to be alone.”

“I think there is more to it than that.”

She stopped and turned toward him a little. He was gazing at her in that focused way he had and she cursed herself for forgetting what he said about seeing more than others did.  
“I find most people… trying to be around.” She resumed their path up the stairs, thinking how to phrase the real reason she hadn’t liked her neighbors. “Humans can be kind and courageous and generous to a fault…”

“Why do I sense a contradiction in your words?” Thranduil asked smoothly.

Seren swallowed. They rounded another flight of stairs and she idly wondered how high up the mountain they were. “When I was sick, and all treatments had failed, I was sent home to be with my family.”

“To die…”

She stopped and looked at him. “Yes.” In the deserted staircase, that one whispered word seemed to echo loudly. From this height, all of the sounds from the kitchen and other busy areas had faded away.

“Everyone in my town was… so ready to make their condolences. Businesses were placing orders for the impending funeral – florists ordered lilies by the dozen, caterers put their extra staff on standby… Even our neighbors were buying additional food to bring dishes to my soon-to-be grieving parents and anyone who knew me was planning the poetic words they would speak about my ‘precious life’ over my casket.”

Suddenly she realized her eyes were misting and her cheeks had grown warm with the memory. She wiped savagely at her face as she continued up another flight of stairs, leaving the king to follow silently.

“You can imagine how surprised everyone was when my death never came and my health returned. Instead of being happy all of their preparations were for naught, they scorned my family. Ever since, the town decided something had to be strange about me. I hadn’t done what I was expected to do. The shops lamented the loss of their goods. Other children gave me terrible nicknames and my parents heard no end of poorly concealed conversations complaining of the money people had wasted – how dare I have the indecency to continue living!”

Thranduil kept silent. He was solemn but he couldn’t understand this event in Seren’s life as elves didn’t grow sick like humans did. Human greed and pettiness, however, those he understood quite well.

She stopped again, studying his features critically. “Well… needless to say, it was nearly impossible to show my face before them for a time. That mountain was my home and I refused to be bullied into leaving so I stayed away from the town and did everything I could to not need to come down.”

Suddenly a wave of homesickness struck her and she sat on the steps, staring at the wall before her and wondering what Thranduil would ask next.

The elvenking took the last step to a landing and wandered to a doorway, looking down the hall it led to. He thought over the story he’d just heard, analyzing it.

“What disease brought you so close to death?”

Seren didn’t look at him. “It’s called leukemia. It’s a wasting disease, a cancer of the blood. The only treatment is to kill the part of the body responsible for producing blood and replace it with donor tissue. It’s a dangerous and damaging procedure and many die attempting it. The weaker one is, the higher the likelihood of death. I had two such treatments before I couldn’t tolerate another.”

Thranduil wondered if she was lying to him now but he could detect no deception in her. “Such a thing does not seem possible.”

Seren turned to him and scoffed. “Legolas thought someone’s bare hands and a plant could save my brother – are we really going to argue over what seems possible to whom?”

Thranduil acknowledged the difference of perspective with a smirk. “I’d prefer not to argue with you. I’ve seen your world, the weapons and the machines that have been built… Legolas has told me everything about his time there, yet your words are difficult for me to believe.”

This was where she felt fundamentally alienated from the elves. Something as basic as the truths of the worlds they lived in were opposite to hers, as it was the other way around. “No more than it is for me to believe in magical plants and enchanted weapons.”

She saw the corner of Thranduil’s mouth crease upward from her vantage of his profile. She drew in a deep breath. “You will simply have to accept there are some things in my world beyond your ken.”

Now he looked at her, debating with himself over whether to remark on her bold tone or counter with a reply. “I could say the same to you. You deny the power you’ve displayed is your own doing, even as new instances arise. In this world, there is much that someone from a land without magic wouldn’t think to consider possible.”

Seren stood, rising to the last step. “How am I supposed to accept that I did these things – things I’ve never been able to do before – that are established as the sort of talents only wizards and elves possess? Even here, I should not be capable of doing any of the things you claim.”

Thranduil frowned. “It is no mere claim, Seren. You live among creatures of magic. When magic is used, it is felt. During the incident at the doorway and at the burial we all felt the source of it coming from you.”

“But… I’m human.”

He tilted his head, meaningfully. “You _look_ human but I’m convinced there is more to you than what we see.” He watched her as she shook her head and turned away. “At first I was willing to entertain the possibility that it was a phenomenon of the doorway, that you had absorbed some if its magic and it was bleeding away on its own. The proximity in time to your crossing it and the first instance being the most powerful supported that assumption.”

Seren gazed warily at him. “But you’ve disregarded this hypothesis?”

Thranduil’s stare went flat and inscrutable. “Before I left the kitchen, Menui showed me her Niphredil.”

Seren’s eyes fell closed. “Of course she did…”

Now he moved close to her, circling. “You cannot tell me it wasn’t your doing. Aside from the obvious reasons, no one here has such ability.”

“I’m not trying to hide it, Thranduil!” She faced him, green eyes sparking with annoyance and turned to watch him as he walked. “I don’t know how I did it, but I also can’t deny that it was me.”

He looked away from her but continued his slow circular strides. “There may be clues in your past, clues you may have dismissed as a meaningless oddity, which might give me more insight.”

Seren sighed. “Then I suppose I should start by telling you about the night I died.”

At this, Thranduil stopped and turned fully toward her, eyes wide. “You died?”

She nodded. “Even now, it’s a tale I’m not sure I believe. It defies all logic.”

“Your logic, perhaps; please… tell me.”

She dragged in a long breath, thinking where she could start.

 

_“Momma, I want to see the stars.”_

_“It’s too cold out there, Seren.”_ _Brenna smiled as her daughter pouted dramatically._

_“But I haven’t seen the snow or the sky since the snow fell – pleeeease mom?”_

_“I wanna go outside!” Tal chimed in._

_Their father chuckled as he entered the room. “I think it’s a grand idea. It’s what she wants, Brenna.”_

_Their mother smiled sadly. “Okay. I’ve been outvoted. We’ll go out – but just for a little while. Seren can’t handle the cold for too long.”_

_Together they bundled themselves in warm clothes and took off for a hike up the mountain._

_When Marc spotted a constellation, he asked Seren and Tal which it was._

_“Orion!”_

_“It’s Pisces, Tal,” Seren yawned._

_“I think it’s time to get someone back to her bed,” Brenna said._

_“No! Not yet!” Seren begged her, “Just a little while longer? I want to make a snow angel.”_

_Her brother raced to a clear spot and lay down. Seren kicked snow in his face when he declared himself the winner of a race she hadn’t agreed to run._ _They lay in the snow, gazing up at the stars and wondering what constellations thought about people who watched them._

_“Where did that star come from?” Seren pointed high above and toward the eastern peak of the mountain._

_Her father frowned. “I don’t know. Strange… it wasn’t there yesterday.”_

_“It had to be,” Brenna said. “Stars don’t just appear at random.”_

_“Maybe it’s an alien,” Tal said._

_“Don’t be ridiculous, Taliesin,” Seren shot back._

_“Then what do you think it is?”_

_“I don’t know…” Her eyes began to feel heavier and heavier but she stared up at that star. A thought that wasn’t her own drifted through her mind but she didn’t understand it. She took ever deeper breaths and felt her heart slow as consciousness drifted further away. “It’s alive… and it has something important to say…”_

_“Alive?” Tal raised himself up to look at her, eyes widening when he saw she was slipping into sleep._

_Seren stared at the bright pinprick of light as it seemed to fill her vision. “I just have to listen…”_

_She didn’t hear him shout. Her mind and her vision were filled with light. The star came to her. She was falling into forever and she held onto it, not wanting to be lost. Knowledge, thought and emotion filled her and carried her away to the land of dreams where trees glowed and beautiful music filled the air. A voice sent her back to the world she left and she was simply Seren once more._

_When she woke, she was in her favorite PJs and sunshine streamed in through her window. Her IV port had been removed and she wasn’t attached to any of her monitoring nodes. Her parents always attached the monitors before going to bed._

_“Mom? Dad?” She rose from her covers and the ease of the movement surprised her. Then she noticed her skin: it was no longer pale and bruised. She rushed to her little standing mirror and gasped at the sight: a healthy pink girl stared back at her._

_“I don’t look sick anymore!” She ran from the room. “Mom! Dad! I don’t look sick anymore!” Then she stopped. “I can run?” She laughed and tore off to her parents’ bedroom._

_Tal scampered from the front yard where his parents were speaking to each other over coffee and wiped tears from his face. He entered the hallway and stopped, shock making him scream when he saw Seren._

_Brenna and Marc went running when they heard their son and had a similar reaction. Tal was hugging Seren._

_“It can’t be!” Brenna said. “Marc, please tell me you see this! I can’t be hallucinating!”_

_Marc fell to his knees and beckoned Seren to him, eyes filled with tears. A moment later Seren was in his arms and he cried into her shoulder._

_“Daddy? Are you alright?”_

_Brenna knelt to look at her daughter. “He’s fine, honey – better than fine.”_

_“So am I!” She said brightly and held up her pink arms. “Look! I don’t feel sick! And I can run!”_

_Suddenly Brenna wrapped herself around them and wept. Taliesin joined them and the family remained there for many moments. He kissed his sister’s forehead, thanking the stars for granting his wish._

 

“They said I had died that night, up there on the mountain. There was no breath in my lungs or heartbeat, so they took me home and laid me in my bed and waited for morning to begin funeral preparations. They were quite surprised when I woke up. I told them about the star that had come to me. Of course, they thought it was merely a child’s fancy even though the mysterious new star was gone from the sky. Being six years old, it was perfectly reasonable to me to believe it had cured me like Tal had asked. We never told the doctor about the incident. It just sounded… too much like magic.”

She huffed out a silent laugh and looked at Thranduil. He was thinking hard about what he’d heard and there were any number of questions he could ask but none seemed to offer a hope of answers.

“The star that came to you, did it have a name?”

Seren shook her head. “I just remember feeling like there was an entire lifetime of emotion in it, the greatest focus of which was for these trees that gave off light.”

“Light?” The mention of such trees intrigued Thranduil. In elvish lore, there were only two trees that had ever given any kind of light.

Seren closed her eyes, trying to see them in her mind. “One that gave off golden light, and the other one –”

“Silver.”

Seren opened her eyes to find Thranduil’s gaze narrowed on her. He seemed disturbed.

She swallowed. “Yes. Have you seen such trees?”

“Not with my own eyes.” A thought struck him and he went to the doorway, firelight flickering on his face from the torches in the corridor. “There’s something I wish to show you.”

Seren followed out into the hallway and they walked in silence. She was curious enough to have questions but the silence after so much discussion was a welcome reprieve and she simply took in the new surroundings as they walked.

The hallway let out into a vast cavern that offered more halls and she was led to one on the left, back in the direction of the main hall. They were high above Thranduil’s throne however and the place he led her was to the large golden doors she had seen on her fist day here. Gold armored elves stood at attention and let Thranduil pass without comment or salutation as he opened the doors.

It wasn’t the king’s chambers as Seren had surmised that first day, but a vast round room filled with beams of sunlight spilling through carved openings in the stone. Gold accented everything and caught the light, making the room brighter than the light that it had would otherwise allow. The floor was a pale vanilla shade of rock and etched with a circular lotus pattern in the center. Arrayed around the edge of the room were shelves of books and scrolls. Cabinets with artifacts lined the wall behind them and there were many tables and desks set in nooks on the far end of the room.

“This is our treasury of knowledge,” Thranduil said by way of introduction. “Few have unfettered access to this room. It is closely guarded for the secrets and wealth of knowledge it contains.” He went to a particular shelf and began looking over its contents.

Seren stared around her, feeling a hum against her mind. The air felt thick with energy and she extended her hands out as if she could wade through it like water, features slack in surprise. “What would magic feel like?”

Thranduil turned to her and watched. He hadn’t expected her to know that it was magic she was sensing but he had at least thought she might pick up on its presence. “It is different for everyone. One constant is that it feels like it echoes in one’s mind. What you are sensing are the wards that protect this room and the enchantments of some of the artifacts here.”

He came toward her and held up a scroll, taking it to a nearby podium and unrolling it. Two feet of parchment fell open and Seren stared at the sloping and swirled, neat and tiny writing that crammed every inch of it. The letters were perfectly aligned in straight rows though there were no lines. What caught her attention most was the picture in the upper left corner. A vertical box, four inches by six, framed an image of two trees standing in a clearing which was surrounded at the edge by a forest. They were the very trees Seren had been seeing in her sleep since the day she returned to life.

Depictions of beautiful elves wandering near the trees displayed opulence the likes of which she hadn’t seen before. Thranduil seemed almost drab by comparison.

The trees were painted to show the light they emitted and the soft silver and golden hues played over the surface of everything in the image. Suddenly, as she stared, she could almost see them in her mind, dragging them up from the memories of dreams. She had tried many times to capture these trees and was never satisfied. Even this rendering was a poor reflection of what she saw in her mind.

“They’re beautiful…” She lifted a hand to reach for the image but remembered that she probably shouldn’t touch the parchment with her hands. “I have tried so many times to express what I see… I’ve never come this close however.” A great sorrow welled within her and she knew without asking that the trees were no more. “If only I could have stood before them while I painted…”

Thranduil watched her profile as it changed from awe to sadness and grief. It hadn’t escaped him that he never mentioned the trees’ destruction and yet Seren spoke of them in the past tense.

“These are the trees you dream of?”

“All my life I’ve seen them. How…?” She slowly jerked her head toward him as though surprised he was there.

He stepped back from her, startled by the impossibly emerald hue of her eyes when she focused on him. There was a light to her that hadn’t been there a moment ago. It was as familiar as any of his kin and yet unfathomably strange.

Her eyes lost focus and she cast her gaze toward the floor. “Laurelin… and Telperion…” She gazed back at the image and tears sprang to her eyes. “How do I know them?”

She looked at the elvenking who could only stare. “Thranduil? How can I know them?”

He shook his head once. “I don’t know. The only explanation I could offer is impossible.”


	14. The Most Obvious Answer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some mischievous planning afoot and Thranduil finds an answer, impossible though it seems.

“When will you leave?”

Celeborn was standing near the edge of the clearing of Galadriel’s mirror and observing as she filled the basin with the clearest water. It caught the light, casting silver flickers over her features as it fell.

“The time is not yet right,” she said softly. “The season I saw was that of the earliest spring. I cannot bring my vision to King Thranduil before then.”

The water reached its final droplets and she set the silver flask in the grass near the basin’s root and turned to her husband. “The winter harvest should be a suitable time for my arrival,” she said with a small grin.

Celeborn returned the expression. His wife always did love a merry gathering, much as she pretended to give it no thought. “So you will head for the Last Homely House? Lord Elrond has already sent word that he expects you.”

Galadriel’s grin widened. “Of course I should take any excuse to see my grandchildren again.” Her features fell slack and her gaze solemn. “The Council must be summoned.”

Celeborn let his gaze travel over the earth at her feet as he considered his response. “You fear their decision.”

“Yes.” Her expression became distant as she recalled her visions. More had come in the days following the first and even she felt restless to sit idle in her home among the golden trees when such portents continued to rob her of rest.

“What I saw has the potential to change the course of future events, events Sarumon refuses to believe possible. Such as what I’ve seen, he will have seen as well. He must be made to view it objectively, rather than with fear. The fate of the Greenwood affects us all.”

Galadriel lifted her sapphire eyes to her husband once again and smiled. “I should think Lord Elrond wouldn’t mind if I spent the winter there.”

Celeborn smirked. “Then you have but a single moon cycle to reach your destination, my lady.”

“I will leave in the morning,” Galadriel declared.

She turned to gaze upon the surface of the water in her mirror and Celeborn retreated from the clearing to begin preparations for her journey.

 

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“I must admit, Seren: you are a quick study. Sindarin is not an easy language to master for those of the common tongue who were not raised speaking it.”

Petite by elf standards, Varis stood shorter than Seren by only a couple of inches. Her auburn hair flowed around her as she stowed away books and supplies in the library.

When Seren wasn’t in the field, helping with the crops, she went to the library to learn the language of the elves.

Eight days ago, on Ceridwen’s suggestion, she went to observe as Varis taught the very young how to write in their language. In the course of that time, the woman had offered to help Seren with her first lessons in Elvish. Since then, the basics of syntax had followed and today Varis had tasked Seren with properly writing simple sentences. Once approved, she had to speak them. Part of her felt foolish to be, for all intents and purposes, back in school; but she knew she had to start at the beginning if she was to understand the Sindarin everyone else spoke around her. Thus far, she could only repeat certain things by rote and she looked forward to the day when she could put her own words together.

Seren blushed at the praise as she returned writing implements to their little wooden boxes at each station and placed any ink wells that had been left out in their little nooks on the desks. “It’s a very… flowing language. I find it simple to understand and less simple to speak.”

Varis laughed, her dark blue eyes crinkling. “That is most often the hardest part. Knowing the proper forms of the words for a given use or situation, takes time to master. Your pronunciation however is rather impressive!”

“ _Le Fael_.”

Varis laughed again. “Now you are showing off!”

Seren giggled and neatly ordered a stack of books alphabetically, pleased that she knew the letter order now.

Once they were finished putting the library to rights, they went to supper at one of the halls rather than reserve one of the many smaller kitchens for creating something themselves. It gave Seren a chance to check in with Menui about how her Niphredil was doing. The little plant had continued to grow and now stood four inches tall. The ailment it suffered before was nowhere in evidence.

Nuineri waved at her happily when she spotted the human in the large room filled with tables and hurried to join them.

“I hear you’re taking classes with Varis.” She winked at the other elf as she sat and Varis remained silent.

“That is what you’ve heard?” Seren asked. “Have you been spying on me?”

“It’s not hard to do these days. I can never find you in your chambers, except at an hour it would be inappropriate to bother you.” Nuineri leaned in close and whispered, “You do know the prince’s Day of Beginning is in a few weeks, don’t you?”

Seren pulled back, surprise on her features. “Is that like a birthday?”

Nuineri’s expression fell and she looked worriedly to Varis.

“Elves celebrate the day they Began,” the instructor said. “The day of birth is merely one phase of life but the moment that life started is what we celebrate.”

“Conception you mean? On Earth, it is impossible for anyone to know when that has occurred without considerable effort.”

Varis smiled. “Humans are like that here too. Elves, on the other hand, know from the Beginning. We don’t beget constructs of physical form that are given sapience once they reach sufficient development. From the moment we Begin, we are.”

Seren scrunched her features. “I don’t understand.”

Nuineri tried to explain. “A child’s fea is started from the combination of its parents’ fea and is then grown from the mother’s soul as well as her physical body. No child is begun that a mother cannot birth.”

Understanding dawned on Seren’s face and she gawked at Nuineri. “So you – literally – gave a piece of yourself to Menui?”

The elf smiled. “That is the way of it. The magic inherent in our kind demands a magical well from which to spring. Every elf owes his or her fea to the well of their mother.”

Seren smiled when she considered that, in a way, Legolas’s mother was literally with him. For humans it was a figurative sentiment. “That’s rather lovely,” she said. She clasped her hands together. “So… Legolas will celebrate his Day of Beginning soon; what does that entail?”

The elves grinned. “There will be a party, of course.”

“And presents and games!” Menui exclaimed, sitting at the round table they’d claimed.

Another space at their gathering was suddenly filled by Caireann, who sat and said nothing until everyone had become quiet and looked at her expectantly.

“I need your help, Seren,” she said.

Seren’s eyebrows rose and she swallowed the mouthful of roasted rabbit she had been savoring. “ _My_ help?”

“The gift I’d like to give the prince is that of being sat on his backside. I’ve heard you are well versed in a fighting style Legolas doesn’t know.”

Seren gulped and tried not to let dread fill her features. “You’re referring to the martial forms of Bruce Lee.”

Caireann nodded.

Seren wrestled with conflicting desires. She wanted to help Caireann and she did need the exercise since the king had forbid any to leave the kingdom’s gates and running through the forest around its walls wasn’t an option at the moment. But she was wary of how she would handle herself, doing something she’d only ever done with her family, chiefly her brother. She also feared the return of her nightmares. The thought of surprising Legolas was appealing, however. Perhaps, if she just kept to the instructions on the forms, she could avoid sleepless nights.

She began to warm to the idea and a sly grin spread over her features. “I can show you the forms; teach you the philosophy of their use.”

“Good!” Nuinethir sat on Seren’s left suddenly, setting a plate of food down. “I can teach Legolas once I’ve mastered them myself. He covets this knowledge but hasn’t the heart to ask you to show him.”

Seren stared at him, incredulous and Caireann appeared crestfallen. Her plan to surprise Legolas seemed to unravel until the quickstrider looked up from his plate and smirked at Caireann. “After you’ve bested him on his special day, of course.”

Caireann grinned, followed by the rest of the table.

“What gift will you give him, Seren?” Menui half-shouted over the din of the large room.

The surrounding tables fell quiet and looked their way as Seren flushed and smiled nervously. When they returned to their conversations, she leaned forward and whispered, “It’s a secret.”

Menui’s eyes alighted. “I like secrets!”

Seren laughed. “I’ll tell you later.”

 

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“Ada…”

Thranduil raised his head from the scroll he was studying and saw Legolas standing in the center of the vault.

“You missed the evening meal. _Again_.”

The elvenking stared in surprise at the lack of light coming into the room from the ceiling. He hadn’t realized it had grown dark. The single lamp above his table barely illuminated him, dressed as he was in a dark red tunic and black trousers. His hair glowed a soft silver-gold in the light that nearly blended with the wall behind him, his crown unadorned and pointed ears no longer neatly holding back his hair but making it stick out haphazardly from the sides of his head.

The younger elf held a tray bearing roasted rabbit, bread, fruit and cheeses and crossed the room to where his father sat, placing it opposite the scroll on the table. He chanced a look while Thranduil watched him and saw a retelling of the revolt of the Noldor elves in Valinor depicted on the parchment.

“This seems a strange time of our history to investigate. Have you still not discovered any answers?”

He was speaking of the mystery Seren presented when she identified the Two Trees. Ever since, the elvenking was preoccupied with every piece of knowledge about a time ages past.

Thranduil tilted his head back. “She mentioned when she was young, she would have night terrors after sparring with her kin – Taliesin in particular – and what little she can recall of those terrors reminded me of the kinslayings that began the first age.”

Legolas nodded. “I had asked her about that. She didn’t say much. The Dreams must be truly terrible indeed.”

“The kinslayings were a terrible time, Legolas. Many who survived were never the same again. Even those Mandos returned to Arda bore scars upon their souls.”

Thranduil leaned back in the richly appointed chair he had brought in for himself, picking a wedge of cheese from the plate his son had brought him.

The prince frowned and took a seat in a – rather plain by comparison – chair opposite the king. “How can a human bear such scars? What human is returned from death in such a manner as Seren was?”

Thranduil let out a thoughtful ‘hmm’ and a long breath. “There may be clues even among the oldest and strangest events of our history. There must be. Seren knows the Trees and her abilities are such that I have found only the briefest mention of their like in the oldest scrolls.”

Legolas set his mouth into a grim line. “Father… You may be looking for an answer that does not exist. It has been many days since you squired yourself away in here, looking for something that can explain Seren’s existence. Perhaps there isn’t one if our oldest scrolls offer little more than hints. Maybe it’s time to accept things as they are and move on.”

Thranduil swallowed the last of his cheese as he thought. The day he had brought Seren to the vault, he had spent hours asking questions about her life and hours answering them about the history of Middle Earth. At times, she would show surprising insight for one who hadn’t been raised learning about the ages of Arda. For himself, there were seemingly minor things she’d divulge that he was certain were more than they appeared. Now, he had far too many scattered pieces of a very perplexing puzzle. It only made sense when he entertained a notion that wasn’t possible and he couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that he was only just beginning to uncover the tip of a very large iceberg.

“I must understand this Legolas, lest someone with more insight take advantage of that ignorance; the least of which could result in Seren being lost to us.”

“She’s not a gem to be hoarded, father.”

“I was speaking more of her safety than her usefulness,” the king retorted pragmatically.

Legolas’s gaze narrowed. “But you aren’t above using her as well?”

Thranduil smirked and sat back, crossing one leg over another. His son’s protectiveness of the human was amusing, to say the least. “I’m not above letting her continue on as she has,” he said deeply. “I’m quite certain Seren will do as she pleases if I cannot even command her to use my title as expected.”

The last was said with such a petulant air that Legolas blinked. A laugh suddenly escaped him. “That truly bothers you?”

Thranduil exhaled through his nose. “She lives here but this is not her home. It may never be.”

“She’s making every effort to adopt our way of life and she has never defied your decrees,” Legolas retorted. “Her brother lies in our soil here – father, the Greenwood _is_ her home… whether or not she calls you king has nothing to do with that.”

“She’s known a level of freedom that no one in this kingdom can fathom,” the king said as he stood and surveyed the dark room. “She may never truly be able to accept the sovereignty she agreed to live under.”

Legolas watched him, an inkling taking root in his mind but he kept the thought to himself. “Unless you plan to banish her for it, there is little you can do.”

Thranduil stopped and his head lowered toward the floor, pale hair falling over his ears. “I know…” He turned to Legolas suddenly, expression conflicted. “But I cannot have her addressing me so informally.”

Legolas said nothing to that. No one in the kingdom cared that the strange human took such liberties because it was assumed she was rather eccentric and they often found it amusing when Seren wasn’t paying enough attention to remember the proper salutation. Yet it seemed to bother his father so…

“I can speak with her,” he offered.

“I fail to see what good it would do.” Thranduil found himself gazing absently into the darkness of the room where a shelf offered a glinting golden-edged scroll he hadn’t noticed before. He went over to it and gently pulled it from its circular nook and returned to his seat at the table. After unrolling it and securing the top with a weight, he took a sweet roll and tore a piece free but stopped in the midst of bringing it close to his lips.

“’Guardians of the trees’…”

Legolas looked at the parchment, eyes widening at the illustration. A dozen elves wearing a crest of entwined silver and gold branches stood before a rendering of the Two Trees and their reflecting pools in a wide circle. Wind was evident in the scene and the twelve stood firm while anything approaching the trees was blown away. Light suffused them, blinding and shining all around them, further driving away the depictions of dark creatures.

“’Among the elves in Aman the Guardians alone, as servants of the Valar and Maiar who created the Trees, were permitted to drink from the Wells of Varda, the pools of light collected from the rain and dews of the Two Trees’…” Thranduil stopped and gazed up at Legolas, wondering if he thought as he did.

“This looks like what happened at the doorway,” the younger elf said.

“Indeed,” Thranduil agreed and read further. “’The Guardians’ abilities were for the protection and succor of the Trees, though they could be used to restore and protect other life a guardian deemed worthy, for the light expended was that of the Tree from which they drank and therefore precious to them and not casually forsaken to other causes. Once a guardian drank of the light from the Trees, they were forever tied to their fate and they all felt the death of the Trees upon their own fea. Many of the Guardians perished when Laurelin and Telperion were destroyed and those who survived took up the cause of seeking the silmarils for the Trees’ restoration, knowing that their own lives would be forfeit in this action should they succeed for they would give the light they still possessed within during the course of the Trees’ revival. Because of this, they were among the first to be slain by the revenge driven Noldor, who believed them to be complicit in the Trees’ destruction in order to obtain the silmarils by an elaborate ruse. To date, the deaths of all but one guardian have been recorded’...”

Thranduil raised his head. He picked at his roll and sat back again in his chair, mind racing.

“How could the Noldor have believed such a thing of the Guardians?” Legolas asked. He was appalled by the cruelty the passage described.

Thranduil chewed a morsel of his bread before answering. “Sauron’s master was quite adept at manipulation and none he had more success with than the Noldor. Even as they marched against Morgoth for vengeance, he was able to take a form none suspected and continued to sow lies among the elves who would listen.”

He trailed off as he thought. Obviously the Trees’ restoration wasn’t to Morgoth’s design but that could have been accomplished without the Guardians as well as with their aid. What good could have come of the Noldor believing the Guardians would have taken part in the Trees’ destruction? The Guardians never had need of the silmarils.

“’The blessing upon the gems,’” Legolas read aloud suddenly. “’The Valar blessed the silmarils as divine, decreeing that no mortal hands or hands unclean could possess them.’” He pointed at another depiction for his father to see.

The twelve Guardians, before the time of the ills begotten by Morgoth, stood before the Valar named Varda and the Two Trees and hundreds of Eldar. Each silmaril was born by the hands of three guardians while a fourth poured water from the Trees’ reflecting pools over the stone and Varda stood in attendance, looking on with approval.

“The blessing that protected the gems was carried out by the will of Varda and by the hands of the Guardians,” Thranduil said slowly, awed by the implication. “They were killed because, by their deaths, the blessing upon the gems could be undone.”

“And Morgoth would finally be able to bear them and behold their full power,” Legolas added grimly. He sat back and reached for a roll himself and wondered what this could have to do with Seren.

Thranduil rose and wandered away again. “The doorway that closed on Seren could only have done so if she was the reason it was made at all.”

Legolas’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re sure of this?”

Thranduil paused and offered a spooked expression to his son. “Yes…” He started walking again, chasing an epiphany. “The ancient scrolls are clear on this matter. Such paths are created when a great perversion or tragedy of our natural order has occurred. If anything is lost through such an opening, it will remain until the return or death of what was lost. The doorway could only have closed with Seren here if she belonged here. The most obvious answer is that, although she may have been birthed there, she _began_ here.”

Legolas stared in shock. “Father, what you’re suggesting…”

“Is not possible, I know,” he sat once more and began cutting a morsel of rabbit free. “But what if it is?” He slipped the morsel between his lips and reached for something under the pile of loose scrolls. He produced Seren’s sketch book and opened it to the back cover, toying with the leather lining that had come unglued along the edge. He dug inside and removed three pieces of folded paper and opened them for Legolas to see.

They were clearly old crayon drawings and each bore a small neat signature of what could only be an adult’s hand, labeling them ‘Seren age 6, first new day’. One page depicted the trees, crude and simply drawn, at the height of their life. Another displayed formless dark shapes with snarling mouths and shining weapons. The last beheld a star-filled sky with one particular dot shining bigger and brighter than the rest that hovered over a vague shape of a male form walking hand in hand with a red-haired little girl. At the bottom of the page, written in a child’s scrawl was the name ‘ _Mandos_ ’.

Thranduil inhaled slowly as the images lay before Legolas and the _rightness_ of his theory settled into his breast. “What if the last Guardian was slain and restored to life within a dying child in another realm?”

Legolas swallowed and released a long breath. “It should not be possible. No elf can live on Earth.”

“Hidden within a human, the _fea_ might be able to endure,” Thranduil replied. “Seren _did_ die. She was deceased for many hours, and the souls of men do not linger once released.”

Legolas felt his head spin. “Then… the mind that continues is human but her soul… is _elven_ …”

Thranduil stared again at all of the pages and scrolls before him, still not quite believing his own suggestion but unable to deny it _felt_ correct. “The only reason that I can fathom for such a trick, that makes any sense to me,” he held the scroll of the Guardians aloft, “lies on this parchment.”

“She’s elven…” Legolas repeated on a whisper.

“Hmm, yes,” Thranduil said and returned to his meal. “So it would seem.”

 


	15. Lothrim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas's Day of Beginning is near and everyone wants to know what everyone else is giving the prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken a couple of creative licenses this chapter. I hope the deviation isn't too distracting and that you enjoy it. Thanks for reading! =D

Soft, fine particles of wood decorated the table around Seren as she worked a fine grit stone along the grain of wood to sand a tile. Dozens of little squares bearing a single elvish letter littered her desk in the library and she crossed out another letter on her list as she finally set down its final piece. She had just a few letters left. After this, she would have the letters burned so they stood out on the beech squares. During her work in the fields, she'd come across a few felled branches from the nearby trees and some of the wood was in a condition fit to use.

She smiled as she remembered the strange look the carpenters had given her when she explained that she wanted little squares made so she could etch them with the alphabet. Once the pieces started to come together, they grew excited to see what Legolas would think of his gift and pursued the task with so much eagerness that their usual daily duties seemed to have become their secondary concern. Getting their help in finding wood large enough and suitable enough for a playing board had been easy after that. Resisting their efforts to weasel an explanation of what the gift was out of her was less so.

"You seem pleased with yourself," Varis said as she walked in and saw Seren's grin.

"I was just recalling a fond memory – one that doesn't hurt."

She was referring to her troubles sleeping once she began teaching Caireann Bruce Lee's forms. If she wasn't waking in a frightened cold sweat, she was crying herself to sleep as memories of Tal refused to cease their incessant appearances.

Varis, having slipped into Seren's circle of friends alongside Ceridwen, Nuineri , Caireann and Nuinethir, didn't need to have the remark explained and she came over to the human and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"One day, the memories will bring you joy again."

Seren patted her hand and straightened in her chair. Varis bent over her shoulder and studied the playing board. She picked up a letter tray and set it before her, grabbing tiles and laying them in the track.

"Are you going to show me how this game is played?"

A grin spread over Seren's features as she placed a few pieces on the board that spelled " _hama sinome"._

"'Have a seat'… can one use phrases in this game?" Varis did as the tiles commanded and started rummaging for more pieces.

Seren put a hand on hers to stop her from mixing the sanded and rough piles. "Usually less common phrases would be used, though any real word will do. Even simple words like 'the' can be used; however it's considered bad form."

Varis nodded began picking out letters from the sanded pile and Seren again had to stop her. She held a little green satin pouch aloft.

"You're supposed to pick them at random and unseen." She set the bag down and went back to sanding the next tile while Varis put finished the tiles away.

"So this is a game from Earth but you're making it in our language?"

Seren nodded. "Tal and I played all the time and when Legolas arrived, we taught him to play. My brother accused me of helping him too much when he won. I did assist him in understanding the rules of our written language but he came up with his own words. Taliesin never did accept that maybe Legolas's outside perspective gave him an eye for words we wouldn't have thought to use."

Seren shook her head. "I think Legolas was more affronted than I was. He refused to let me help him at all after that."

Varis chuckled. "Did he win any more games?"

"Of course." Seren joined Varis in laughing loudly.

When their mirth tapered off, Varis poked a tile around the table. "I'm not close enough to the prince to know such things..."

"I'm sure your gift is splendid," Seren said slyly.

Varis looked to her and pointed accusingly. "I'm not telling you what it is!"

"You know what mine is."

"Only because you told me in order to get my help! I didn't ask," Varis shot back.

If Seren was pouting, she refused to admit it. She crossed off another letter. "Speaking of your help…"

Varis raised an eyebrow.

"I need a book of rules written in elvish but since I don't know it well enough yet…"

"You need me to transcribe the rules from you?"

Seren grinned.

Varis sighed and smiled. "Afterward, you will show me how to play this?"

"You have my word."

Varis went back to packing the tiles into their pouch and Seren continued sanding the wood in her hands. After a few moments, a strange feeling of being watched came over her and she looked up from her task but the library was deserted save for her and Varis. She returned her attention to the tiles and began telling Varis what the rules of the game were. The instructor wrote down some rough notes and asked questions for clarity and soon they had a satisfactory set of rules for the game written in elvish, though Varis insisted the final product would be meticulously printed on fine parchment.

When Seren finally set the last letter tile inside the satin pouch, she stood and stretched. The hour was late; she could feel it in her protesting muscles and Varis sent her off with a promise to play a game in the morning. They packed her project away and Seren began her long walk to her chambers but when she saw the landscape outside, she stopped.

The moon was nearly full and high in a clear cobalt sky. Stars glittered everywhere in its expanse, reflecting the prismatic twinkles from the new snow that had fallen like a blanket over the ground. It was a thin covering but it was just enough to hide the terrain under a layer of soft white.

A crisp breeze gently caressed her cheek and she inhaled deeply, catching a faint scent of pine. A smile broke over her features and she doubled back to a set of stairs that led directly down and outside. She strode far out into the center of the gardens and didn't stop until she had come to the little bridge that arched over a small stream. It still babbled over the rocks but ice was forming along the banks.

When she reached the apex of the bridge, she stopped and stared up at the stars and let herself just _feel_ small and enormous at the same time. The sky seemed to turn ever so slowly above her and she looked to the moon, its soft glow bringing everything to life. The chilly air made her skin prickle but it felt invigorating rather than biting. She breathed deep, savoring the sharp cold on her tongue and giggled.

The stars twinkled back at her. One in particular seemed to glow brighter the longer she stared at it and she let its light fill her vision. She didn't particularly know why but she smiled up at it and then closed her eyes, listening and letting the peace of the night fill her soul.

The softest footsteps reached her ears and she studied their pattern. The telltale _swish_ of fabric gently skimming the ground gave her visitor away and she smiled.

"Hello, king Thranduil," she said and lowered her head, opening her eyes to the direction from which he approached. He looked every inch the winter king in a royal blue velvet tunic that swept the ground. The silver trim detailed the layers that crossed his torso in an overlapping 'V' pattern that opened into a similar formation at the neck and his pale hair was unadorned, flowing as he walked. The flop in her stomach was familiar now, though no less disconcerting. She gave no sign of it however and simply watched him as he paused in his step with a blink.

From a dozen paces away, he could see her every feature in the nearly full moon. Her ivory skin shone under the luminance in the sky, contrasted with shadows cast by the fine structures of her face. Her hair was left loose under a circlet of hair plaited around her head and it fell dark over the pale heather grey dress she wore. He noted that the sleeves were a loose and thin fabric gathered at the shoulders, her arms puckering from the temperature of the air.

"Does the cold not bother you?"

He resumed his steps and stopped just before the little bridge. She stood quite taller than him from this position but she came forward until they were eye to eye.

"In time it will be uncomfortable enough and I will go inside," she said as she walked. "But for the moment, it feels…"

He watched as she gazed around her, her eyes wide with wonder.

"I can't explain it; I have always loved winter – the first snow in particular." She stepped from the bridge and they began a leisurely stroll over the white landscape.

Thranduil hummed in agreement. "Arda has many breathtaking sights. It's a pity you have yet to see them."

"I will, someday." She smiled to herself. "For better or worse, I'm here in Middle Earth to stay." It still stiffened the air in her lungs to confront that reality but it was getting easier.

Thranduil looked past his right shoulder toward her but she was studying the terrain ahead so he returned his own attention forward. "Will the Greenwood always be your home, here?"

Seren's eyes darted toward him but she didn't turn her head or slow her steps. "I do miss my home on Earth and at times this feels like a dream I'll soon wake from, but I couldn't return to that life even if I were able. If I were to travel other lands here, no matter the distance or the time spent away; I would always come back. My brother is buried here and I have friends among your kin now, Legolas being first among them. Every day it grows more difficult to imagine leaving for good."

Her words eased his mind somewhat and Thranduil allowed himself a small smirk. Seren was now certainly more than a rumor to many. He'd heard talk among his guard and advisors of the human. Tales she had shared or things about her realm they'd heard of and her knack with the gardens were topics of many conversations. Most spoke fondly, though there were a couple of his kin who resented that a human dwelled within their halls. They were mostly ignored by everyone else, however.

Legolas's high regard for her helped considerably with that, he knew. Many looked to the prince for deciding how to judge a character but once they spent time around Seren, they decided their own minds to generally favorable review. Seren had made herself useful and committed only the most minor infractions against their customs here and they weren't repeated once she knew of them. Thus far, inviting the human to stay had been a surprisingly pleasant decision.

"On the subject of my son," Thranduil started. "There is to be a celebration for his Day of Beginning."

Seren smiled. "I know. Nuineri told me."

The king shook his head once. _Of course…_ "It is customary to bring a gift for the one being celebrated."

"I know that too," Seren replied.

"That is good. Though you have been here little more than a month, it would be understood if you did not –"

"I do have a gift for him, my lord."

"That is good," he said again and wondered how best to phrase his next statement.

She turned her full attention to Thranduil, studying him and a smug grin slowly spread over her features. "It was you…"

He stopped. "What?"

Seren laughed a little. "You were spying on Varis and I in the library while we worked on Legolas's gift!"

His eyes went round for a moment but he managed a façade of calm and clasped his hands together. "I did pass the library to see if you had a moment to speak but it wasn't of urgency so I decided to wait until you were no longer preoccupied."

Her eyes narrowed at him and her grin didn't entirely fade. "Right…"

He looked beyond her shoulder and she took pity on him. "So what was it you wished to speak with me about?"

Thranduil blinked, not expecting the abrupt change and slightly disappointed that she hadn't offered an answer about her project in the library. He'd seen it but only from a distance and he hadn't a clue what it was. It would be a lie to say he wasn't curious about it. He shook the thought away and brought his mind back to what he'd learned from the scrolls.

"I have a theory about your nature and what occurred the night you died."

He started walking again and Seren strode beside him. "I'll begin with this:" he intoned with an important air. "You are not fully human."

Seren laughed nervously. Somehow she wasn't surprised but she hadn't been prepared for how absurd it sounded. "Forgive me, Thranduil, but I'm rather certain I am."

The elvenking frowned, though not because of her use of his name. For the first time, he failed to notice the absence of his title.

"I only ask that you listen. Whether or not you believe is for you to struggle with but the fact remains that, despite your appearance, you cannot be wholly of the race of men and command magic such as what you have displayed."

Seren stared at the ground, shaking her head but she pushed her denial and doubts aside and took a deep breath. "Alright, I'm listening."

Thranduil studied her for a moment, wondering if he was being patronized but she seemed sincere. "During the days that the Two Trees lived, there was an order of elves that protected them, the Guardians of the Trees."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Me? Why would he want _me_ to help with the shipments?"

Legolas smiled as he watched Seren pile weeds she'd pulled from an old crop bed into a heap. He gazed out over the expanse of newly freed earth. There was enough to begin a new crop but she refused to allow that until she'd cleared all of the weeds. Ironically, allowing the dandelions to overtake the bed had defeated the fungus that had ruined the crops last year. Now it could be used again, once Seren approved of it.

"Perhaps it is because you have a knack with plants? The crops we lost were started with seedlings bought from the eastern settlements of men. Esgaroth was their final waypoint before we took them. He wants all new shipments inspected with your particular talent before delivery is accepted."

Seren shook her head and plopped a wet bundle of weeds upon a mound that stood three feet high and stared back at the hole they left. The snow from last night had melted and left the ground soft and muddy. Even so, the weeds were stubborn and didn't come up without considerable effort and there was mud splattering her shift. Her shoes were entirely the color of wet earth. It still amazed her that there were edible crops the elves could grow through winter and they were clearing land for the hardy, tuber. She removed her gloves and wiped the back of her wrist across her brow to push back a lock of loose hair and huffed.

"The king suspects the crops were fouled deliberately," she said.

Legolas blinked. "Yes. That is a possibility he wants to investigate." In truth, he believed his father wanted to test practical applications of Seren's abilities as well as put this suspicion to rest but he hadn't shared this for concern that she would refuse. Where her talent was concerned, Seren didn't take kindly to the assumption that she would do whatever anyone wanted whenever they wanted it.

Other elves had come over and bundled the weeds in old burlap and Seren helped them heave the large lump onto a rack to be taken away to a fire for destruction. Once done, she turned back to Legolas.

"Why do you purchase any of your crops from anyone? The land here is expansive enough to grow everything you need."

"You know we have trouble starting seeds in our soil," Legolas retorted, perplexed she would ask such a thing.

She nodded and started walking toward the mountain in which the kingdom sat. "I do. But _why_ is the soil so difficult to start seeds in?"

"The forest beyond is very sick. It is only a matter of time before that sickness overtakes all our land."

Seren sighed. "And there's nothing to be done? According to what Varis teaches, there are other places that Sauron cannot invade in such a way – Lothlorien comes to mind."

Legolas pursed his lips bitterly and regarded the ground as he walked. "Lothlorien is the home, of Galadriel. She is among the oldest and most powerful of our kind and she possesses a Ring Of Power. She is understandably wary of allowing its use to anyone. As powerful as the treasury my father hoards is, it pales in comparison to the might of the other elven lords. The Greenwood is strategically located for Sauron and is also the least defended. We keep him at bay by fighting back the minions he sends to spread their sickness. But there is only so much that can do."

Seren made an expression of allowance for that. "Arrows are hardly much good against magic and poison."

They fell silent for a time and when Legolas spoke again, he changed the topic.

"You will be at the celebration won't you? It's only a few days off."

"I wouldn't miss it." She returned the grin when he smiled.

"I've heard you're making something in the library, that you're busy well into the night. Father says it's for me." He smirked as she stopped, a look of incredulity on her features.

"He was spying for you! Oh! That traitor!"

Legolas bounced on his heels. "But he won't tell me what it is! He said it wasn't his place and that I would see it at the right time."

"Good!" she said, pointing a finger at him, "Shame on you for sending him to spy for you!"

Legolas ducked his head. "I didn't send him… exactly. I implied I wanted to know when he told me he needed to speak with you. If he asked, he did so of his own will."

Seren scowled at him good naturedly. "Well in a few days, you will know."

She shook her head in mock disapproval, her mind working furiously over this information. Legolas believed his father knew what his gift was but she knew she hadn't told him. She wondered if Thranduil had gone to Varis and procured an answer that way. Varis had utter respect for the king, of the sort that their confidentiality made in friendship wouldn't hold against the king personally making a query. She would have to ask him about that.

The mountain loomed before them, and they stepped into its shadow. "For centuries I wouldn't celebrate this day," Legolas said suddenly. He glanced at her, a nervous huff escaping him. "My kin would ask every year and every year, I resisted. It didn't seem right to honor it without my mother. After the defeat of Smaug and the battle of five armies that followed, it didn't feel right to deny them a chance to celebrate something. The anniversary of such terrible loss is a heavy burden on everyone. We've celebrated every year since." He smiled suddenly. "I'm glad you're here in time for the good things."

Seren smiled too but her curiosity made her ask, "When was the defeat of Smaug?"

"It was five years to the day, six weeks and… two days ago. We were still on Earth then. It was the day we had gone into your town."

It was also the day her cabin had been destroyed. A long breath escaped her. "No wonder everyone was so gloomy when I first arrived," she said, thinking of Nuineri. She recalled the conversation she'd had with Thranduil the night before and glanced at the prince surreptitiously.

"Legolas… the king did speak with me last night. He had a rather… interesting theory to share. Do you know of it?"

Legolas made a face and stopped, turning toward her. "I do. I was there when he found the scroll that offered a crucial piece of his assertions."

Seren swallowed. "And you don't disagree?"

His gaze was solemn and focused. "It fits, Seren. It's the only explanation that accounts for everything we know and everything we've seen."

She scoffed. "Except that it's just not possible."

Legolas's glanced around and spoke low. "If Mandos was involved, anything is possible."

Her eyes were wide, a slight panic edging her voice. "So I'm supposed to accept that my soul isn't my own? That I've been half human since I was six? Humans can't just switch souls!"

"For elves, it is called the _fea_ and yes, that is exactly what you have to accept. Souls aren't the entirety of what makes a human. The part of you that cherishes your identity is the mind. The body and mind are tools for the soul to use and learn about the world because it comes blank and formless. It takes the knowledge it gains with it to wherever it goes upon death. Human souls don't linger. You died. Your soul couldn't have remained –"

"That's what you _believe_!" She hissed.

"Furthermore, Mandos is an elvish deity," Legolas continued, undaunted.

"He wouldn't interfere with human affairs, never mind one from another realm. Souls of Middle Earth pass through his halls as a means to leave Arda and slip into the ether but they aren't under his purview so he can do nothing to them. He could only have been involved in your return to life if you were at least part elven. We know he was involved because of your own rendition of him – Seren… you cannot be entirely human. It's just not possible."

Seren swallowed thickly, her eyes shone like glass with unshed tears. "How can Mandos have done anything to anyone in another realm?"

"I don't know. Perhaps there are no divine beings that govern Earth and humans are an accident that perpetuates itself. Your world has no magic – maybe that is why. You said the night you died there was a star – one not seen before or since – and that you had to listen… It could be that was when Mandos asked you accept the gift he offered, a gift he could only give to someone who was no longer meant to live, whose fate was done."

"'No longer meant to live'…?" Seren turned away, unable to let anyone see the horror on her face.

"Humans are meant to live for a finite amount of time," Legolas replied solemnly. "Sometime it is a century or two and sometimes it is a handful of years. Without gods to negotiate with, Mandos may have only needed to ask you to accept the _fea_ he was trying to save. It probably wasn't possible otherwise."

Seren thought back to that night under the stars and how she had thought one of them to be alive. She had fallen asleep listening to it. Her parents had said that was the moment of her death. "I don't recall anything of what was said the night that star appeared but I know I listened to it. I died. And then I woke up."

Legolas smiled tentatively. "You were somehow cured of a disease that you had no hope of surviving, had mysterious dreams you couldn't explain and now you have shown magic here. Of course, you may search for your own answers and if you devise a different hypothesis, I would hear it; but until then… My father's is the only explanation that fits."

Seren closed her eyes and huffed softly before opening them again, an uncertain smirk graced her features. "How can I accept that I am not _what_ I have believed I am all my life? Could you accept being told you weren't an elf?"

"Probably not," Legolas laughed. "It would certainly take me some time."

They started walking again and Seren chased after a thought. She practically jumped when she finally pinned it down. "Oh! Tell your father I want my sketchbook returned. I'm grateful he saved it from being discarded but it is mine. He's kept it long enough."

Legolas saluted. "Yes ma'am."

They had finally reached the cellar doors to the mountain and she bid farewell to Legolas as they went their separate ways. She was looking forward to the bath she was planning but was stopped by an elf who pointed at her feet and made a face.

"Oh right." She bent to remove her caked footwear. The elf came over and took them from her grasp and tugged at the ties on Seren's shift until it too came off. "I can wash them myself!" She called after the retreating back. A Sindarin phrase she didn't understand but, thanks to Varis, that she knew to mean "It's my duty," came back to her.

Seren sighed and regarded her wool clad feet, fitted trousers and shirt, glad she hadn't worn a dress or she'd be dressed in little more than a white linen slip. The laundresses had staff they sent to stalk the doors after a rain or snow and removed the most soiled garments from people as they came in rather than wait for them to be brought to the laundry. The whole affair of having someone else wash her clothes was still strange to Seren.

Of course there was no central plumbing, save for the hot water one could call through a spout from cisterns that stood in the sun all day. However, it was a simple contraption that utilized gravity and natural filtration for clean water. True indoor plumbing didn't exist and large vats of heated water were kept on the cellar level for laundry. The staff didn't take kindly to being brought caked on stains, nor did they allow anyone but their own to use the facilities. So she had learned to get used to it, but it was still odd.

There were voices echoing dimly in the main chamber where the king's throne sat when she approached and she glanced that way when she stepped out onto a series of walkways that would take her across the cavern. The stone was clammy and moist under her feet, soaking the socks she wore and making traction almost nonexistent. She had to tread slowly and could hear the proceedings from the king's dais. He was standing before a group of bedraggled humans. They were kneeling and several guards had pointed arrows at them. Even from the great distance between platforms, Seren could see Thranduil's scowl.

"Please, my lord!" One of them begged. "We only wanted a little food."

"And you thought to steal it from my people?"

Try as she might to ignore the scene, Seren stopped just before she reached the stairs. The cold of Thranduil's tone kept her from saying anything however.

"The Master made no plans for those Smaug crippled. We've had to scrounge the scraps from our people just to survive!"

Seren swallowed and found herself drifting closer to the edge of the chasm, listening intently.

"The Master's negligence against the derelicts of his city is not my concern. You will be locked in the dungeons until he negotiates your release."

"But he will never come!" One of the men wailed.

"We'll die of old age!" said another.

"That is my decision," Thranduil said. He gestured and the guards pulled the captives to their feet and prodded them to leave down the spiral stairs at the back of the dais, toward the dungeons.

Seren drew a breath and hurried to the stairs, slipping within and making her way hastily upward. Part of her wanted to go back and ask Thranduil why he was being a bastard but another knew full well it wasn't her place and that things in Middle Earth were far different than they were on Earth. She slowed as she reached the top of the fourth set of stairs. _Perhaps too different…_ she thought as she stopped to remove the wet socks, finding the stone preferable.

Seren's presence registered on the periphery of Thranduil's mind but when he had the luxury of looking that way, she was gone. He gazed up at the path that led from the stairs and spotted her walking past the arched openings in the stone. Her feet were bare and the deep brown clothes were the fitted attire she usually wore under a shift. She seemed to be in a hurry to return to her chambers so he decided he wouldn't call for her attention at the moment and instead crossed the stone walkway to the stairs, following after her.

When he neared the door to her chambers, he realized it stood wide open and a strange scent wafted into the hall. His eyes widened when he recognized the smell and he held his breath. He hurried to the threshold and stopped at the sight of dozens of bulbous purple cluster flowers on stalks with rough edged dark green leaves standing in vases arranged around the room. Still not daring to breathe, he took the steps of Seren's foyer two at a time and found her unconscious and face down on the floor.

As he passed, he had to dart sideways as the stalks filling a vase started ejecting spores at him. Fine grey pollen swirled in the air behind him. He bent to a knee and shook Seren but there was no response. When he rolled her over, she hitched a ragged shallow breath. Her color was beginning to pale and her chest barely moved. Around him, the flowers were continuing to explode and the need to breathe was beginning to tighten his chest.

He looked Seren over. She was covered in the grey dust of the plants. Removing the robe he wore, he wrapped it over her and scooped her from the stone, surprised at her weight; though it wasn't a burden. Once out in the hall he gasped for breath, hoping the spores on Seren's face wouldn't find their way into his lungs and leaned against the wall for a moment just breathing again.

A rattle came from the human and he looked, jostling her. "You must wake."

But Seren only wheezed weakly with the effort to breathe and he could feel her heart hammering like hummingbird wings through her torso. Thranduil straightened and all but ran down the hall. As soon as he neared another elf, he called out.

"You, fetch Ceridwen! Now!"

The elf blinked and took a moment to comprehend the sight of the king striding down the hall with Seren in his arms before taking off at a run.

Thranduil continued his brisk pace all the while telling Seren she had to wake up and shaking her occasionally. He took a series of paths that led over his throne and past the library. He rounded a corner and almost knocked over a mask wearing Ceridwen as she appeared.

Immediately she began to fuss over Seren. "She's covered!" A wet cloth was produced as they walked and the healer wiped the spores from her patient's face. She scampered to keep pace with Thranduil as he continued his trek to the infirmary. A different wet cloth appeared and it smelled of herbs. Ceridwen held it over Seren's nose and mouth and gave her neck a vicious pinch.

Thranduil felt her stiffen in his arms and she instinctively inhaled to cry out and the cloth was pressed firmly down, making her breathe in the poultice.

"Hold her," Ceridwen warned.

Seren folded almost in half, coughing violently and Thranduil tipped her back against him so she didn't spill from his grasp and to the floor. Worry creased his brow as she convulsed.

"Will she be alright?"

"She will likely be fine but I'm not promising that yet." She lifted the robe a few inches and immediately tucked it back down again. "Where did the Lothrim come from?"

The great whooping sound of Seren's cough had brought many running who stood watching as the healer led the king to her workspace. Finally they made it to the hospital wing and Thranduil was pointed to the back and set his burden on the last bed, watching her. The color had started to return to Seren's face and she breathed a little better than when he found her.

He thought of the many vases of the spore carrying flower and scowled. "Lothrim is deadly in high enough doses…"

Ceridwen scoffed as she bustled about the room. "Most use it for sedative purposes, but in high concentrations, it can stop the heart or, as in Seren's case, prevent the lungs from taking in enough air."

Anger began to burn in the king's chest. "Someone managed to smuggle large quantities of Lothrim into my kingdom… And they placed it in Seren's room."

The healer stopped, eyes rounding into saucers. "Who would want to do such a thing?"

"Father!" Legolas rushed into the room, looking at Seren and then at Ceridwen. "What happened?"

"She was poisoned with Lothrim," the healer said.

Legolas blinked. "How? Why?"

"That's what I intend to find out," Thranduil answered ominously.

Legolas looked to him but before he could ask more questions, Seren began another round of hacking coughs. They turned to see the healer pulling another cloth from her face and the human half rose with the force of her torso's contractions as her lungs expelled the noxious substances in them.

"Will you stop that?" she croaked at the elf, finally awake, and then gasped as more coughs racked her. Her back was to Legolas and the king and they shared a smirk at the human's attitude.

"I'm sorry but this is noxious enough to force out the spores you've inhaled but the Athelas makes it so it does more good than harm." Ceridwen said and rubbed Seren's back as she tried to breathe deep through the next series of coughs, managing to keep them down to minor brays.

The next breath she drew was shaky. "Oh-h-h-h…. whoever that fool was, I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"What fool?" Legolas said, striding to stand in front of her.

She startled at his sudden presence. "There was a note, I don't remember the name. Some human dignitary asked me to attend some occasion or other."

"What occasion?" Thranduil strode to her left and stood next to Legolas and again she jumped a little.

She stared at him crossly. "Could you announce your presence before sneaking up on me?"

Both elves raised their dark brows at her and Thranduil tilted his head. "I brought you here."

"Oh." Seren gaze fell to her lap and she noticed the gold shimmering fabric over her. "Well thank you… king Thranduil…" There was such an emphasis on the title that he furrowed his brow in confusion. "You can have this back…" She started to tug on the robe and all three elves around her panicked, eyes wide and hands raised.

Ceridwen managed to grasp the robe's hems from behind and pulled it snug again. "You can't remove that until we're ready. You're covered in spores. The sooner we get them off of you, the better but none of us want to breathe them in either."

Seren sighed and regarded the cloth masks the healer was soaking in some fragrant liquid. One of Ceridwen's helpers arrived with a silk sack and Seren's face paled.

"You two," she pointed back and forth between Thranduil and Legolas. "Out."

Their eyes widened.

"We need to discuss –" Thranduil began.

"After I'm decent again; I'm about to literally lose my shirt, so out with you."

Ceridwen smiled under her mask and turned around but Legolas still managed to see the crinkles at the corners of her eyes and laughed. He strode out first, snickering silently. Thranduil followed a moment later and glared at him.

Once the door was closed, Ceridwen handed a mask to Seren and gave the last one to her assistant. Then the king's robe was gently taken from her and gingerly balled up and placed in the sack. The healer helped Seren with the hooks that kept her tunic closed and when she stood, the trousers were gently tugged from her legs. An incredible itchy feeling began to dance all over her skin and when Seren looked, it was red and welted all over. Her small clothes were also removed as spores had managed to weasel into the fibers and the healer began passing a cloth with yet another salve on it over the angered skin.

The assistant carefully gathered everything and placed them into the silk sack and tied it closed, leaving the room.

When the door opened, Thranduil was standing in the hall mindlessly staring at its intricate hinges while his thoughts tumbled over who would want to hurt Seren and why. The releasing catch startled him and his gaze slipped through the gap between the door and its frame. His eyes went round and he hurried to turn away, surprise on his features. The assistant appeared with a sack bearing the spore infested clothes and looked to him.

"Destroy them," he told the woman, his voice sounding strained even to his own ears.

Legolas frowned at him. "Father?"

"I want no chance of any of those spores affecting anyone else," he said, more to even out his tone than anything else.

Legolas nodded in understanding and resumed his slow pacing as the woman left them. Thranduil leaned against the wall, letting the cool stone center him as he worked to banish the image of Seren from his mind. He doubted he would forget the display of her nude profile, skin awash in colored sunlight from the stained glass window as she was cleansed of the spores but he could bury it.

He closed his eyes and pointed his mind in a more productive direction, telling himself that he didn't need the distraction and that it was a mindless folly. The reaction that had surprised him so was simply because the sight of her was unexpected. He had previously objectively admitted that, for a human, Seren was one of the most comely he'd ever seen. The detachment of that earlier observation had deserted him now and he chided himself for being affected by something merely physical. So he repeated to himself that she was just a human and it was silly to let himself be distracted by her until he believed it again, in all but the deepest corners of his mind.

_She is not just a human however…_

The thought jarred him and he opened his eyes, finding Legolas watching him. He refused to think of that beyond what it meant for her abilities. Whatever powers she possessed and whatever _fea_ she harbored, she was human in form and therefore still _finite_. It wasn't worth his consideration.


	16. A Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Lothrim incident offers an opportunity and Seren's friends stop by to see that she's okay.

Seren yawned as a simple plum colored dress was pulled over her head. Her eyelids felt heavy and her speech slurred as Ceridwen pushed her down on the bed.

"I have to… my room…"

"There are spores everywhere in your chambers. You can sleep here," the healer replied, tucking a blanket over the human. "And you need to rest."

"Why'm I… so tired…?"

"You inhaled much of the Lothrim. Now that the poultice I gave you is wearing off, the Lothrim in your blood is making you drowsy."

"The note!" Seren said, half rising again. She was pushed back down easily.

"It will be found," Ceridwen said soothingly and brushed hair from her patient's forehead. "Rest now, Seren."

The healer watched Seren as she finally drifted into slumber, worry making her frown. The thought of someone wishing Seren ill made her sick. She would keep the human under her supervision with the guise of needing to be looked after. Until the king discovered who was responsible, she wasn't letting her patient out of her sight.

Her assistant returned bearing the wine she'd requested and placed it by Seren's bed. Thranduil and Legolas stood in the doorway and Ceridwen gestured for them to enter.

"She sleeps," she told them. "There is still Lothrim in her blood and it'll take many hours to wear off."

Legolas stared down at the woman on the bed, mouth a flat line. "I need you to make more of those masks. We need to look over Seren's room."

"Of course."

Thranduil watched them and looked at Seren who was breathing evenly again. He spotted the wine and nodded approvingly at the healer.

Legolas spun on his heel and stalked across the room but was stopped at the door when his father spoke. "Find the note she mentioned."

"I will."

And then he was gone.

The elvenking turned back to Ceridwen. "As soon as she wakes –"

"I will inform you immediately, my lord."

There was nothing more that could be done for Seren and there was no reason to stay so he stepped back, casting a last glance at her before turning and following Legolas out.

His thoughts turned in circles as he walked. He considered again the dangers of what he thought Seren might be but he was quite certain no one could know of that outside of himself, Legolas and Seren. He wondered if she had offended someone. It was possible. He smirked, unbeknownst to himself, as the thought crossed his mind. However, he doubted anyone in his kingdom would wish her dead or would be foolish enough to try killing her if they did. She was considered one of his subjects like everyone else here and therefore under his protection as well as rule. Doing her harm was as treasonous as it would be to harm another elf which was also common knowledge.

The one oddity that stood out was the appearance of a small band of would-be human thieves. Three had been found hiding in barrels – the reverse of a trick they claimed to have learned from tales of a certain Hobbit's exploits. It was trick Thranduil had been keen to prevent from happening again and thus the stowaways had been discovered by the improvements they had made in monitoring their goods' traffic. The fourth had been caught snooping around the cellars, his filthy pockets stuffed with cheese and fruit. The king had had the food discarded but he considered it now. He wondered if it had come from the stocks on the barge or one of the kitchens. The incoming shipments would have been sealed in crates and difficult to open without tools.

The king hastened his steps and called for his personal guard when he entered the main chamber. Soon he stood among all but four of them on his dais. Legolas had already informed them of what occurred and commanded the assistance of four, taking Nuinethir among them. To those who remained, Thranduil instructed them to make queries at every kitchen about their stores. When they dispersed, he remained there, feeling oddly restless. There was nothing more he could do to pursue his inference so he turned his attention to other matters of his kingdom's needs, beginning the parade of afternoon meetings with the treasury keeper and the captains of his guard.

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Legolas looked around Seren's chambers, his nose tingling from the herbs on the mask he wore. Grey powder coated everything near the foyer steps. Upon entry, one would be nearly encircled by Lothrim. A little table at the foot of the bed had a small vase of the purple flowers and they were utterly spent, sagging and wrinkled. In a corner at the head of the bed, a vase stood and the flowers hadn't yet expelled their spores. The same was true of vases standing in the far corner by the little round lunar salon and many others looked as though they might still have a little more left to expel.

He caressed the gold leaf etching on a nearby vase. "These are ours. How did someone move so many without being seen?"

He asked no one in particular but Nuinethir still answered. "This section is less inhabited, my lord. During the day, these halls are all but deserted."

Legolas didn't respond to that but he looked down at the dust covered table and saw the note Seren spoke of. It was torn in two. When held together, the pieces conveyed a jovial greeting to Seren and extended an invitation to her.

Legolas scoffed as he read it. "' _As first advisor to the Master, I Lagdar of Esgaroth would be delighted to make your acquaintance, fair Seren of the Mirkwood kingdom of elves and offer you welcome and respite among your own kind in Esgaroth for the winter harvest ball_...' No wonder she tore it up."

Nuinethir chuckled. He knew Seren well enough to be confident she would prefer to stay away from someone who sounded as smarmy as Lagdar.

Legolas scowled. "It makes no sense. Lagdar is the Master's foremost advisor – he would know better than to attempt harm on a citizen of my father's kingdom."

Eleros spoke from the center of the room where he had piled the Lothrim he had bagged and bundled. "If he tried any harder, he'd fall over himself. I doubt he has the Master's approval and he thinks it charming to surprise her with flowers."

"Lothrim flowers?" Legolas returned. "He is either false or a fool."

Nuinethir added another, more troubling thought. "Lagdar hasn't been here since he came to renegotiate terms of trade with the king a fortnight ago. Someone must have done this for him."

Legolas went still and his mouth set in a grim line. "It's quite a coincidence that thieves appeared just before the Lothrim was discovered, do you not think?"

Nuinethir's brow furrowed. "They should not be left to languish in our dungeons without a visitor or two."

Legolas's grin was half snarl, half smirk. "It would be a shame to allow that."

Before they could confront the captives in the cellar, they had to finish gathering the Lothrim and spray everything with an herbal mix that would render the spores inert so they could be cleansed away.

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"Not so invalid, I see."

Thranduil stood before a cell just out of reach of the nearby torch's flame, watching the human within. The man startled and rose from the task of trying to free a metal wire from the underside of his bed. The cot was wall mounted and the mattress was on the floor. One of the legs that supported the outer edge had been pried off and the man was trying to force the suspension of his bed free from its bolts on the frame with it. For someone supposedly with a lame leg and bad back, he had done remarkably well.

"I didn't hear you, king Thranduil," he said nervously and tried to resume his hunched posture.

The elvenking seemed to materialize from the shadows without his golden robe, dressed in black silk brocade and his crown graced with a crescent of bare nearly black brambles. His gaze glinted in the light as it pierced the darkness, sharp and focused on the human. "That was the point," he said smoothly. "Do not bother with your ruse."

"Where are the others?" The man suddenly demanded, straightening and coming to the bars. "My sister–"

Legolas, Eleros and Nuinethir had each chosen a prisoner to speak with once they had all shared what they knew and concluded the humans had to be involved in what happened to Seren. "They are being questioned, like you."

"Please don't hurt her!"

Thranduil arched a brow, thinking it curious that was the first thing the man would assume. "You and your sister nearly killed one of my citizens."

The man shook his head. "We just delivered flowers. We didn't do anything –"

"Lothrim carries spores that induce sleep. Too much of it can cause death. The quantity you and your ilk _delivered_ was dangerously excessive."

The man blanched. "But it was cold last night! It snowed! Lothrim doesn't eject spores if it has been exposed to temperatures like that! Please, if you believe nothing else I say, believe that we meant no harm to come to your human."

Thranduil had to pause as he considered this. It was true that Lothrim wasn't known for tolerating the sting of winter. Still, the Lothrim in Seren's room did eject their spores and she had been adversely affected. At the very least these vagrants had trespassed. At worst, they had attempted to murder a denizen of the woodland realm. "What was your intent?"

"Just to deliver flowers; Lagdar said he'd pay us a week's worth of wages if we'd take flowers to Seren." When Thranduil scowled, he hastily added, "He fancies her."

The elvenking pressed his lips into a line at the absurdity of Lagdar thinking he could court Seren. Practically speaking, he didn't want to have to deal with the political foothold a match between his kingdom and Esgaroth would allow for the city of men. It was also ridiculous. Lagdar and Seren had met only once before, during the last trade negotiations weeks ago. She had hardly slowed to offer the slightest greeting when she delivered Nuineri's requisitions. She had left as quickly as she had entered, leaving Lagdar stuttering a hasty farewell. How the Master's advisor thought the flowers would be welcome was beyond Thranduil's reckoning.

"It seems I have overestimated Lagdar's intelligence," the king said. "Lothrim is hardly an appropriate flower."

The man hung his head. "We picked it from the woods… he gave us enough coin for the flowers and a meal besides."

"That does not improve my estimation of him," Thranduil replied dryly.

The human continued. "He said the flowers just had to be purple. He said she likes purple. We thought, since she wasn't from around here and wouldn't know what Lothrim was and it wouldn't be dangerous anymore –"

"You kept the money and delivered flowers no better than weeds. How charming…"

The man appeared on the verge of begging and the elvenking took a step back when he pressed himself against the bars.

"Please… I just wanted to earn my keep. I was speaking the truth when I said the Master has neglected his people. He hoards our gold and now our trades are tallied on slips. The pay seems to be shrinking but we have no physical gold as proof of what we've earned. The prices of all goods have increased. The Master just tells us that an ounce doesn't buy as much as it used to. The taxes are outrageous – he's driving us into destitution!"

"Hm," Thranduil said. "How did Lagdar come to the conclusion of where Seren is from?"

"He doesn't know where she's from… but she speaks differently and he heard tell that she was from some other land – west of here probably."

"Indeed," Thranduil said quietly, a hard edge to his voice. "This is a very amusing tale but it could just as easily be a lie, meant to save your neck."

The man blinked and his face paled. "What reason could we have for wanting to harm the one human in your kingdom?"

Thranduil tilted his head thoughtfully. "You tell me."

"But we don't! It wasn't our intention for her to come to harm!"

The king offered no response, his features a bland mask and turned away.

"You have to believe me!" The man called after him as he took the steps out of the dungeon.

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Seren groaned as consciousness seesawed back to her and she felt cool hands on her forehead. The dim light coming from the windows was a pleasant relief, though her eyes still smarted a little when she cracked them open. A hand scooped under her head and supported it while a cup was pressed to her lips and she drank greedily of the cool liquid.

"There's a good lass," Ceridwen said.

After a few swallows, she registered what she was drinking and forced her crusty eyes to open further. "Wine?"

Ceridwen nodded and brought the cup forward again. "It counteracts the Lothrim when it reaches this stage." She tilted the cup and Seren had to swallow more or wear it.

The spirit was strong but also sweet and smooth. Warmth bloomed in her belly and soon after, she began to feel pleasantly foggy in the head. "I've heard the wine here is potent. I see that wasn't an exaggeration."

She managed to sit up and the healer refilled the glass, pressing it into Seren's hands.

"Drink."

"I think I've had enough."

Ceridwen 'tsked' at her. "Lothrim causes severe visual delusions, sickness and pain in the skin; the wine can neutralize it now but only if you drink. You inhaled a great deal of those spores so you will need to drink."

Seren huffed and sipped a bit more from her glass and rubbed at her eyes. They stung and the more she ground the crust off, the worse it became.

"Ahem…" Ceridwen stood next to her, holding out a wet cloth.

Seren took it, wiping it over her lids and sighed in relief as her eyes began to calm down. "What's the hour?"

"It is almost supper time. The sun will be gone very soon." Ceridwen busied herself with a small piece of parchment and Seren watched her curiously.

"I've been out of it since this morning? What are you writing?"

Ceridwen stood. "A note about your current status," she replied as she rolled it up. She sealed it with a dab of wax and handed the little scroll to her assistant. "Take this to the king at once."

The other elf bowed and left the room and Seren watched her go, sipping her wine. Her head felt like it wanted to pound but the more she drank, the further off the pain seemed. When her glass was empty, Ceridwen filled it again.

"I've heard talk," the healer said suddenly.

Seren's attention was instantly piqued, grateful for a distraction. "Oh?"

"The humans the king threw into the dungeons have admitted they placed the Lothrim in your chambers. They claim the flowers were a gesture of courtship and they were hired to deliver them."

Seren fidgeted. "Courtship? How could anyone think that was appropriate? I've no interest in courting anyone."

"Do you remember Lagdar?"

"Who?" Seren's mind went to work. It sounded familiar. "I can't recall a face."

"He's the Master of Esgaroth's foremost advisor."

Seren shook her head, regretting it as the room spun a little from the wine in her system.

Ceridwen tried again to jog the human's memory. "You met him a couple of weeks ago during the trade negotiations."

Seren's eyes suddenly went round with recollection and she shuddered. "Him? Even if I was open to being courted, he would not be a suitor I'd entertain."

Now Ceridwen laughed and she nodded. "That is understandable."

Seren sighed and closed her eyes against the swimming in her head. "Now I have to let him know his overtures aren't acceptable –"

"Without affecting the trade relationship we have with the Master," the healer interjected.

A mirthless chuckle escaped Seren. "Of course; nothing that should be simple ever is."

Ceridwen smiled sympathetically and topped off the glass in her patient's hand.

Seren stared at it. "How many have I had?"

"Not enough."

"You don't want to deal with the Lothrim, trust me," Varis said from the doorway. She smiled at the other two and strode into the room, carrying a parcel under her arm.

Seren studied the dimensions of it, her eyes going round. "You brought the project here?"

Varis shook her head, her grin widening. Her features reddened all the way to the ears that peeked through her hair auburn. "I know you probably do not have the steadiest hand right now. I would hate for you to ruin the prince's gift and you'd nag me for letting you."

Ceridwen laughed, Varis along with her and when Seren scowled at them, they laughed harder. A moment later, her own laughter betrayed her.

"Then what is this?" Seren asked with a wave toward the large rectangular package.

"A gift for you." Varis set her burden on the foot of the bed and Seren sat up a little higher, staring in wonder.

"For me? But… it is not my birthday – or Day of Beginning."

"We know," Ceridwen said and took the wine from Seren's hands. "Though don't think you won't receive gifts that day either."

" _You're_ complicit in this?" She stared at the healer.

"So are Nuineri and Caireann."

"And you can thank Menui," Varis added. "She saw you drawing trees on the slate board in the library. When she brought it up at supper one night, Caireann mentioned that you were a painter and had seen you drawing on the journey from Gundabad."

Seren felt her face grow hot and she stretched out shaking hands to the parcel, her voice quivering. "You didn't…"

"Well, open it!" Ceridwen said.

"Not so fast!" A voice called from just beyond the open door.

A moment later, Nuineri, Caireann and Menui appeared. Nuineri held a tray piled high with roasted meat and potatoes, fresh vegetables, fruit and sweet rolls. Menui ran over to Seren and immediately wrapped herself around the human.

"I am happy you're okay, Seren."

"So am I, kiddo," Seren replied as she patted the child's back.

Nuineri followed suit and when it was Caireann's turn, she place her hands on Seren's shoulders and bowed her head.

"Now you can open it," the warrior said when she stepped back.

"I can't believe you did this," she said and looked around at her friends, "all of you." Her eyes stung a little and her smile wobbled slightly.

"Think of it as a late welcome present," Ceridwen said.

"A belated, 'thanks for saving the prince's hide' gift," Nuineri added.

"A show of appreciation for bringing Haavelas home," Caireann put in softly.

Seren sobered a little and reached for her hand, giving it squeeze.

"And my Niphredil has its first flower bud!" Menui exclaimed.

Everyone around her laughed and Seren felt truly happy. For a moment, it surprised her. Then she remembered her brother, wishing for his presence. _He should be here too…_

" _Promise me, Seren… Take every chance to laugh, to love, to live…"_

She shook the melancholy away and grinned. When she tore at the paper, she revealed a large polished cherry brown wooden and rectangle box. It was constructed with brushed steel hinges and clasps and they clicked open with a quiet _'snick'_ when she released their catches. She took a deep breath before lifting the lid.

She sucked in a great whistle of air when she saw the contents inside. Numerous cakes and glass vials of pigments stood before her. The vials were oval in shape and arranged in a little rack wooden rack that suspended them by their necks and each was stoppered with an ornate silver leaf adorned knob of glass. The water color cakes were set into recesses in the glossy polished wood and the section was also a tray that lifted free of the box. In the space behind the paints, an array of brushes shone back at her. She gently reached out and lifted the first set, an assortment of finer bristles, to reveal a second set with more coarse hairs. She stared at the satin polished handles and stroked the swirling silver inlay of the set she held before putting it back. A couple of vials bearing clear liquid stood in the right corner, and she guessed these were thinners and oil bases.

The inside of the lid was also occupied and Seren gushed at the sight of a folded easel. It was minimalist in design and folded neatly into the box but its many hinges could lock and it would stand all on its own and canvas clips were on its adjustable arms. A highly polished blonde wooden palate for mixing colors lay under it and under that, a slim wooden tray with a variety of leads that resembled pencils was hidden. A folded square of canvas was discovered to be an apron and still more supplies like stencils, fine metallic dust in four tones and other miscellaneous things were tucked away in the spaces within the box.

Seren tried to take it all in at once and had to hastily wipe away tears when she felt them on her cheeks.

"I… don't know what to say."

Her friends all smiled back at her. "You don't have to," Ceridwen said with a wide grin. "We thought you might like to return to what you do best and make yourself more at home here."

Seren smiled too. "Thank you – all of you."

She hugged them each in turn. Every time she looked at the gleaming box before her, she wondered if she wasn't dreaming.

"There are canvasses as well," Caireann said. "But they can be brought to you when your room is cleared of the Lothrim."

Seren's eyes lit up. She was happy she could paint right away and an idea struck her. "Could you bring me one tonight? It's dreadfully dull when you lot aren't around."

Menui crawled onto the bed opposite Ceridwen and looked at the contents of Seren's kit. "Can I stay and watch you? I wish to learn how to make trees like you!"

Seren hugged her, flinching as the pressure on her skin smarted and guessed it was the Lothrim affecting her. "I'd be happy to teach you, but you must ask your mother."

The child immediately looked at Nuineri who laughed. "Another time Menui, you can learn but tonight you have other tasks to finish."

Menui's expression became somber. "Oh. I forgot we are making sweets for the party."

"Indeed," Nuineri replied and held a hand out for her daughter. "It was your idea and it is a lovely one. We cannot leave them half finished."

Menui hugged Seren once more and Seren hissed at the pain the contact caused, but she returned the embrace.

Menui pulled back, eyes wide and Seren shook her head to reassure her. "I'm fine. Go finish your candy. I expect them to be delicious."

Menui smiled and went to her mother and the pair left with a final farewell. Ceridwen pushed Seren's wine back into her hands and commanded that she drink and handed her a sweet roll. The others helped themselves to a piece of fruit or meat as they all sat around talking for a while. The state of readiness of their gifts for Legolas was a popular topic as the celebration was in a couple of days. Seren lamented the delay in her own project because she was stuck in the infirmary and Varis reassured her it was still being worked on in her absence.

As dusk gave way to night, her company began to drift away until eventually Seren sat on her bed, drinking alone as she painted. Ceridwen was in another room of her infirmary, making poultices so Seren felt confident no one would hear and began to hum. The painting was a rough depiction of a winter landscape and her heart wasn't in it yet. She rinsed her brush and put it back in the kit and closed everything and then lay back on her pillow. The wine made her sleepy as the Lothrim had but her mind was too preoccupied to allow her to drift away. She kept thinking in circles of how she would respond to Lagdar. No sooner than she'd finish her mental letter, she'd begin again but with a variation. She stared at the ceiling and sighed. She started singing low to herself, hoping the exercise would help focus her mind away from spinning its wheels. She lost track of how many songs she had sung but she finally began to feel pleasantly heavy in all her limbs and her eyes drifted half closed.

"You seem much improved," a deep voice announced into the silence when she paused to take a breath.

The sudden words made her flinch, chasing away the drowsy feeling she'd worked to attain. She sat up, ignoring the way the room tilted from the movement. Thranduil stood a few steps from her bed. Though she couldn't be sure, he seemed amused.

"I'm well enough so long as Ceridwen keeps me intoxicated."

The tiniest hint of a smirk toyed about a corner of his mouth. "Then she is to be commended. It seems you have imbibed enough to feel at ease… singing?"

A flush bloomed on Seren's cheeks. Of course it was too much to hope he hadn't heard. There was a reason she had made certain she was alone before beginning. "I suppose you could call it such," she said sheepishly and then added, "in the most technical sense."

Thranduil finally allowed the smirk to grace his features. "Indeed." He stepped closer to the bed, the smirk threatening to grow and his eyes seemed bright with mirth. "Of all your talents, the ability to produce a pleasing melody is not one of them."

Seren cringed and laughed softly. "I know…" She scrubbed her hands over her hot face but stopped when she thought she heard a small deep chuckle come from the king.

The vestiges of a smile lurked there and he suddenly cast his gaze away from her. He spotted the plate of rolls and drifted to them. He reached out but then he looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

"Help yourself. I've had plenty."

He took a roll and returned to the foot of her bed and held out her sketchbook. "I'm told you wanted – no, _expected_ – this returned to you?"

Seren blushed again. She had been irritated enough to let her mouth grow bold when she said that. Apparently that had been conveyed to the king. "Well, it is mine." She reached for it but the volume lowered just out of her reach.

"You forfeited it."

She looked at him, scouring his expression to see if he was serious. "By accident; I would never have wanted to get rid of it."

Thranduil let her take it and tore a piece of the roll and put it into his mouth while Seren opened the book. It easily fell open to a sketch of Legolas laughing and Seren closed the book, allowing it to open on its own and again the same sketch appeared. She studied the spine and saw a telltale crease in it and shook her head. She chose not to mention it, glad that she had it back at all.

"Thank you."

A single nod was her only answer as the king studied the case that held her new paints and brushes. Then he spotted the new painting and stared at it for a moment. It was surprising to see for himself the talent she had with a paint brush. After a few moments, he returned to the true reason for his visit.

"I have learned that the humans we apprehended were responsible for placing the Lothrim in your chambers."

"I know," Seren said. Thranduil went still and she wondered if she shouldn't have mentioned her knowledge.

"I see that information obtained during a discreet investigation isn't immune to the phenomenon of gossip," he said, irritation plain in his voice.

There wasn't anything she could say to that so she waited for him to continue.

"Since I have no need to explain who Lagdar is or what he attempted to do, I must ask what you think of the matter." He drew in a breath and did not immediately release it.

"What I think?" Seren scoffed. "It's foolish. I wanted nothing to do with him before and doubly so now. He almost killed me!"

Thranduil resisted the smug feeling that swelled within at her words. He'd been right in his estimation of what she thought of Lagdar. The disgust on her features was amusing in a strange way. "If it is any consolation, he didn't choose the flower but rather those he hired thought to place Lothrim in the stead of real flowers."

"Then it is the greed of those he hired that almost killed me. I still consider him at fault since he did not ask to attempt this… courtship properly. I would have refused him then and this," she tugged at the purple shift she wore and gestured around the infirmary, "would not have happened."

"I quite agree," Thranduil said and slowly stepped away a few paces before turning. "The transgression of entering our woods and kingdom without leave is grievous on its own."

A feeling that he was driving at something crept up the back of her neck and she eyed him closely. "What kind of response do you meet that with?"

"Usually fines and travel restrictions," the king replied with a dismissive gesture of his hand as he passed. "However… your life was jeopardized and you are a citizen here. Lagdar is aware of this and he identified himself by his administrative title, effectively claiming to act in the capacity of an emissary of Esgaroth." He stopped and turned to her. "That can be used to greater effect."

Understanding dawned on Seren's features and she surprised herself when the thought pleased her more than she expected. "Ceridwen mentioned that refusing Lagdar could be complicated because of the trade with Esgaroth on which the Greenwood relies."

Thranduil cast a sideways gaze toward her as he returned to the foot of her bed, a faint smile appearing. "The Master wants our gold," he said, his words tinged with disdain.

"The fee he demands for the goods they ferry between us and the trading villages they come from has tripled in recent years. He would not jeopardize the arrangement's existence. Lagdar's actions have given us leverage to renegotiate a more favorable agreement. It would carry the most weight if you would respond to Lagdar and make your accusations against him in person."

Seren felt a grin spread over her features of its own accord, mischief sparkling in her green eyes. "I would very much like to tell Lagdar what I think of him, personally."

Thranduil tilted his head, studying her. He was pleased she saw the merit in his suggestion. He didn't need her of course, but the gravity of the insult to her would be lost if she wasn't moved enough to show herself. To himself he could admit that her answer surprised him and maybe even impressed him, if only a little. She didn't avoid conflict, though she tried to maneuver out of physical confrontations. He was pleased to learn she wasn't a coward.

"I thought you might," Thranduil said with a smirk. "After the celebration, we will go to Esgaroth."


	17. Weaknesses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a weakness. Seren's is sometimes saying what she shouldn't.

Legolas leaned on the end of a long table that had been set for his inner circle. Though he cherished every one of his kin, it was tradition to pick a group of twelve people who had the greatest impact on who he was. Seren was the last of those twelve he was waiting for. His acquaintance with her was recent but she was still undeniably an important part of his life as he wouldn't be celebrating this day had she not come into it.

From the far corner of the table, he heard a long sigh for the second time since the evening started and smiled. It was his father, he knew. Legolas was certain the king was impatient to know if Seren was approaching though he claimed he simply wished to get started.

It hadn't escaped the younger elf's notice that the king behaved differently where Seren was concerned. Thranduil hadn't bothered to consider if there was any benefit to Lagdar's intention to court her, instead he summarily dismissed the idea. He didn't penalize her for the habit of spontaneously familiarly addressing him. He hadn't commanded that she sign papers of sovereignty as any outsider who resided with them was normally required; though having no access to her homeland made them only half as effective. When Legolas had sought his father and found him talking with Seren, no bow had been expected when she left them and if moved to an emotional response, her outbursts weren't just tolerated; Thranduil engaged her. Legolas knew his father well and the liberties he allowed in how Seren interacted with him were becoming a list longer than the formalities he insisted she observe.

He looked back to the table, unsurprised to find a sharp blue gaze on him. Before he could shake his head, motion in the corner of his eye caught his attention. Seren was making her way down the hall that approached the ballroom and he pushed off from the table to greet her. Behind him, Thranduil flicked a glance to the entrance before returning his attention to the elf at the table who had been addressing him.

Legolas went to the threshold and held out his hands for the gift she brought. "You look radiant," he said when she drew near.

Seren ducked her head and glanced down at her dress. It was satin of a deep dusky blue color, fitted in the bodice with 'V' hems and trimmed in thin silver lace. She shook a long bell sleeve out of her way and lifted on the flowing bulk of her skirt to cross the threshold.

"It's a loan from Caireann," Seren said sheepishly. "I don't have any appropriate finery so she let me raid her armoire." She handed Legolas his gift, now wrapped in a delicate brown paper adorned with tiny gold leaves.

"You would have been expected whether you were dressed in appropriate finery or a working shift," he said as he took the heavy rectangle parcel and led her into the room by the elbow.

A table for the presents he was collecting stood against the wall to her left and he set Seren's among the mound, feeling self-conscious as she tensed. Every gaze had turned to them, waiting to see where the prince would choose to seat her.

Thranduil allowed himself a glance as she entered and felt a flush course through him. Once again surprised by the reaction since he believed he had dealt with his previous instinctual response, he forced it away and steered his mind to a more analytical appraisal. The blue gown suited her, he thought. Her ruby hued hair was twisted from the sides of her head and joined together by an intricate silver butterfly barrette on the crown, the rest was left to hang in soft waves down her back. He watched his son study the gift she'd brought, smug in the knowledge that he knew what it was now.

Seren resisted the urge to look for Thranduil among the faces; sure the pale apparition at the long table in her periphery was him.

She took in the room's décor and he watched as she marveled at the colored paper lamps that hovered in the air by the little flame within and the glittering silver and gold banners hanging everywhere. The ceiling wasn't really a ceiling at all but a vast canopy of interlaced stone and tree roots and moonlight pierced through the gaps to shine softly upon the room. The brightest beam landed on the far side of the room, lighting a large white standard bearing Sindarin lettering and a green leaf, trimmed in gold vines.

Smaller, round tables crowded the cavern and Seren thought half the kingdom had to be in the room. White, three-foot tall capers stood higher than she did on ornate gold candelabras in groups of three in every corner, reflecting off of the pale stone floor and making the room bright while giving it a cozy glow. Glittering vases held varieties of flowers Seren had never seen in every color imaginable and their scent filled the air with a sweet spice scent. Though, she couldn't help looking for Lothrim just to be sure.

Legolas turned from the table of gifts and smiled. "Now will you tell me what it is?"

Seren laughed. "That's not how it works."

He chuckled and once again offered his arm and led her to the table. He noted the way the pulse in her wrist quickened as they strode past the last open seat at the middle and continued to the only available chairs next the king. It was the only clue he had as she gave no outward sign of her unease. He released her and pulled out her chair, considering what it could mean and pursed his lips to keep from grinning.

When his father blinked wide-eyed at him as Seren sat beside him, he laughed.

Seren looked from son to father, confusion on her features.

"So high a place of honor," Thranduil said. Then he looked at Seren and paused to consider his words, not wishing to sound cruel. "The head of the table is for Legolas. Traditionally, the person being celebrated seats their inner circle in order of who they feel is of the greatest importance to their life."

Understanding settled her features and she turned a stunned stare on the prince. "Are you sure you wish me to sit here? Surely there are others –"

"Yes," Legolas said abruptly. His gaze was intent on her and he nodded toward his father. "You preserved the gift he and my mother gave me when you returned to me the life that would have been otherwise lost. You are exactly where I consider you to belong."

Seren nodded and looked away to wave at Caireann and Nuinethir across from her and thus missed the pointed look Legolas gave his father before taking his own seat at the head of the table.

Thranduil swallowed, staring down at his hands and through the table. The blunt sentiment brought to the fore a reminder of days not so long past when he feared his son lost to him. He sometimes forgot the moment Taliesin had died, but he recalled it now and the devastation he'd seen on Seren's face. He glanced her way. She was laughing at a quip someone had made and something inside him lurched. This day would have been an agonizing reminder of loss, were it not for Seren and her brother.

"Father?"

Legolas was regarding him with a worried frown and Thranduil shook his head once with a slight smile for his son. "I was thinking there are some things I should never forget."

Legolas eyed him for a moment longer before gesturing and the party began in earnest.

Notes from a flute and an array of string instruments played by elves on a large dais in one corner of the room began to drift around them. Kitchen staff appeared, bearing platters of food. Seren spotted Nuineri and the cook smiled as she passed. When the elf immediately left the room again, Seren made to get up but was stopped by a hand on her arm.

She looked to her left, finding Thranduil's jeweled fingers there. He removed them and leaned in a little to not be overheard.

"Leaving so soon?"

Seren sat back in her chair, wanting to rub the sensation from her arm. "I just thought Nuineri might want my help."

Thranduil tilted his head a fraction. "That is admirable but she has plenty of assistance. You are among Legolas's inner circle and she is not. She must still see to her duties."

Seren chewed on her lip a little. He spoke the truth, of course. Still it felt wrong to watch her friend toil while she was expected to enjoy herself. "I just… I'm not accustomed to this."

The king's expression wasn't unkind. "Not everyone you know is in your closest confidence, are they?"

"Well no," Seren admitted. "I just never had a celebration where anyone who wasn't in my closest confidence was in attendance. My celebrations were very small."

Thranduil smirked. "I think Legolas would prefer such a celebration as that but being a prince of a kingdom makes it impossible without ignoring most of those who would choose to celebrate him."

Seren nodded in acknowledgement of that. The reception she'd received her first day in the Greenwood was a testament to how much the kingdom adored its prince.

"So, Greenleaf," an elf suddenly called out from the middle of the table. He held a glass high and gestured to the empty seat at the opposite end. "When will we be seeing your wife there?"

Legolas laughed. "When I feel like marrying Norin!"

After that, conversation flowed easily and Seren found herself genuinely too involved in the various dialogues around her to be much bothered that Thranduil was beside her. Occasionally he joined in and the topic allowed her some distance so she could address him formally. For a time she was able to forget how he affected her these days. Nothing had really changed except that she had seen more of him recently and it was apparent to her now that she harbored an interest that would grow if she allowed it. Being near him had become more difficult since her stay in the hospital wing and, though she was fond of their exchanges, she was glad to return to a more distant association.

She began to relax her guard as dinner was served. A feast of roasted pheasant and candied tubers was brought out and many vegetables prepared in various ways were offered as well as spiced mixtures of berries and crispy ragged flats of some sort of bread. Wine flowed freely and Seren tried something that was violet in color. It was lighter tasting than the red vintage and more tart. It also went to her head more quickly so she sipped slowly.

After the meal disappeared, many in attendance took turns calling for everyone's attention and said something impressive about Legolas. Nuinethir offered a few words and tipped his glass at Seren when mentioning how glad he was the prince still lived and ribbed him a little for needing to be rescued. It prompted many to ask for her to share a toast but she had nothing prepared so she settled for telling the story of the day Legolas bounded into her sparring session with Tal, kitchen knives in hand; much to the amusement of everyone in the room.

When it was time to present Legolas with his gifts, she turned her chair outward a little to better see and pulled her feet up to her backside, her arms draped around her knees as she leaned back. She felt pleasantly heavy in all of her limbs as food and wine spread through her system.

Caireann rose from her chair and cleared her throat. "Excuse me, my lord, if I may offer you my gift?"

Legolas inclined his head but stared in confusion as the warrior left the room with Ceridwen following close behind. After a few minutes, they returned and Caireann's elaborate dress was gone in favor of a set of light clothes, fit for training. Legolas watched her quizzically as she approached and then his features widened into a grin. He doffed his fine outer tunic and followed her to the open area, the whole room watching them.

"So you think you can best me in combat?"

Caireann tilted her head thoughtfully as they took up positions. "It would be nice but I will accept sitting you down, just once."

Legolas laughed and she returned a feral grin at him before they erupted into a dance of maneuvers. Legolas lunged with an attack that mimicked a sword swing, meant to hook around her shoulders and bring her down but she spun in the opposite direction. He responded to the imbalance by pivoting and trying to take out her weight bearing knee but she shifted and suddenly brought the former leg around for a neat backwards roundhouse kick. Her foot connected solidly with the back of his shoulder and he stumbled forward to remain standing.

His brow knit in confusion and when he tried again to restrain her, she twisted against his grip and slipped free. He immediately responded with a right hand slash which she blocked with a forearm. His movements while fluidly graceful couldn't quite reach through her guard as her movements were short and angular, cutting corners through the arcs of his form. She bounced and shifted around him, back handing him or kicking him when the opportunity arose but not quite able to get in close enough to take him down or restrain him.

"I do not understand her form," Thranduil said suddenly, not far from Seren's shoulder.

A shiver zipped through her, though she suppressed it from shaking her visibly and tamped down her annoyance with herself. When she turned toward the king, he had leaned in but was still a decent distance away. He pinned her with a suspicious look.

"Did you have something to do with this?" He gestured to Caireann and Legolas.

"Caireann asked me to show her what I knew," Seren said casually. "I never thought she'd be able to incorporate that knowledge so well."

While it was true that she had imparted the knowledge of the basic forms to the elf, Caireann had far outstripped Seren's ability with them in no time. The blended technique Caireann was using was of her own making and it was far more effective than anything Seren could have taught her. Thranduil, however, didn't believe for a moment it was as innocent as she claimed and leaned back in his chair, staring at her until she smiled despite herself.

Suddenly a cheer rose up around the room and Seren returned her attention to the duel to see Caireann helping Legolas to his feet. He bowed, grinning from ear to ear. Then he spun and pointed at Seren.

"You taught her but not me?"

Seren shrugged. "She asked. You didn't."

He approached the table and reached for a wine flask. "I'm asking now. Will you teach me Bruce's forms as well?" He poured a glass of wine and returned the bottle to its place.

A shadow flickered across Seren's features but no one seemed to notice. "Caireann would be a far better teacher than I. All I did was instruct her on the forms and their philosophy. I can't actually use them in combat like she can and she has adapted them with styles you know that I do not. Nuinethir is also similarly instructed."

The prince gawked at the Quickstrider. "You?"

"Caireann needed a sparring partner. I would be honored to teach you," Nuinethir said with a smirk.

Legolas returned his attention to Seren and bowed minutely at the waist. "Very well. However I am still aggrieved you excluded me from the lessons you gave them."

Seren snickered. The wine made her more bold than usual and she replied, "Caireann's challenge wouldn't have been a surprise if I had and she wouldn't have been able to knock you off your feet."

The room erupted into laughter. When Legolas's mirth subsided, he declared that her gift would be the last he opened, just to keep her from leaving the party early.

Thranduil gave an amused 'hmm' from behind her. "Turnabout is fair play..."

She turned her head to glare petulantly at him. "Is it really so great an insult to be bested in friendly combat once in a while?"

Thranduil tilted his head. "No. Unless you are used to never losing like Legolas…"

She twisted to lean forward and lowered her voice. "Every great warrior needs to be reminded not to get overconfident sometimes. I'd say it was probably time he was taken down a peg."

Thranduil's eyebrows rose and a gleam brightened his gaze. "You would?" Despite his relaxed posture, he still managed to appear to be sitting straight and laced his hands together in front of his sternum. "The only one he cannot best is me. Would your… philosophy also apply to your king?"

Seren's mouth opened slightly as she realized what she'd stumbled into and looked toward the table, reaching for her glass. "Absolutely not, my lord." She sipped on her wine, hoping he'd back off. He didn't.

"Why not?" He watched as she tried to ignore him, enjoying this more than he knew he ought to. The wine in his head made him disregard the warning his more sensible self would offer as he pushed Seren. "If every warrior needs –"

"In the natural order, there is always a bigger predator," she said, looking over her shoulder at him. "But eventually you reach the end of line."

"And yet the one who stands in that position does change," he retorted, leaning forward.

He was trying to intimidate her and corner her into saying something stupid, she knew.

Seren swallowed the last of her wine and reached for the flask, pouring herself another glass. It was the last thing she needed but it gave her something to do for a moment. She set it down and leaned her elbows on the table and twisted sideways to meet his gaze. "That's because he who cannot be bested is the most blind to his own weakness until it becomes his downfall. So yes," she added, letting him have the satisfaction of her taking the bait. "Even a king such as you would benefit from a reminder of where his faults lie."

"You seem to think your words are wise." He regarded the stem of his glass, dark lashes fanned over his cheekbones. After a moment, he met her gaze again and the intensity lurking there made her stomach burn. "Yet you say them to someone who has ruled for over an age. How should I interpret such a mutinous claim?"

Seren sucked in a breath. She found herself unable to keep from replying against her better judgment. "You are the king. Toss me into the dungeon if you find my errant mouth so offensive."

Thranduil scoffed with a hint of his amusement. "Offensive? No. Fortunately for you, your errant mouth is not grounds for such a penalty and I would be robbed of the entertainment you present in trying to verbally engage me. Your audacity is admirable."

The crack smarted but Seren let it pass and spoke softly, though her words still carried to him. "I would have bowed out had you not insisted upon this exchange and you accuse me of gall when you think I've fallen short of your wit? The audacity to be admired here is yours. You started this." She tilted her head a little, eyes narrowing as she studied his expression. "And I think you _like_ being challenged."

Thranduil's jaw had set while she spoke and he considered a reply but loud clapping erupted from where Legolas was opening his gifts and she turned from him and clapped with everyone else as the prince held a shining new bow up for all to see. She didn't look back to the king afterward and his pride wasn't going to let him provoke her again. He would wait until she had forgotten herself and addressed him later.

Seren felt warm with the awareness of Thranduil's presence behind her and it took every effort not to chance a look his way to see how he was absorbing her last remark. She didn't want to find out how he would turn it back on her so she settled back into her chair and focused on forgetting he was there. A part of her mind wondered why he had started their little standoff but, other than his boredom, she could think of no reason. It was probably the wine. Her own mouth had certainly run away with her because of it and she needed to not let herself say something spectacularly stupid.

Legolas continued going through his gifts and the night wore on. Occasionally Seren rose to get a closer look at his prizes. He had been given no less than three bows and they were all a different type for different tasks. He had shining quivers of arrows beyond counting as well as supplies for caring for his weapons. There were many new, small knives and a set of leathers. Seren began to feel self-conscious of her gift as he opened parcel after parcel of weaponry and things to care for said weaponry. He was a warrior. What good was a game to him and when would he have time to play it? Her spirits fell and when he finally reached the parcel she'd brought, she had to swallow the yell she wanted to issue for him to stop.

He met her eyes, smiling. "Finally. I will know what the big secret is."

Her smile was faulty but she managed it as the paper was torn from the box. Legolas took a moment to admire the polished wooden case, running gentle fingers over the vine carvings and set it down on the long table. He flicked the brushed steel latches open and raised the lid, eyes going round as a blank thin rectangle of wood with a green leaf on it greeted him. He lifted it and realized it was a hinged, folded square and opened it. His eyes went wide when he saw the numbered grid etched into the wood and then saw the bag of tiles and hurried to open it. Little squares of wood were spilled out onto the playing board and Legolas picked up one of the six trays Seren had commissioned. His features split with a huge grin as he looked over the pieces and the board and then unrolled the parchment with the rules on it. He gazed up at her, grinning an open-mouthed smile. "You made me a Scrabble game? In Elvish?"

Seren smiled and felt dizzyingly lightened as the weight of her worry lifted upon his reaction. "Well, I had help."

Legolas lifted a letter tile and stared at the back of it. Each piece was painted with a little green leaf and he smiled as he set it back down.

"That was your father's doing," Seren said of the leaves.

She thought of the evening Ceridwen released her from the infirmary. Thranduil had come into the library as she was finishing the gift and she had relented to his request to know what it was. Inevitably, as she explained the game, she wound up sharing memories of playing it with Legolas. Thranduil had simply let her go on. She liked to believe he appreciated hearing of the happier moments his son had during that time. When she retired, he asked if he could add his own touch and she agreed. The next morning, every piece bore a tiny verdant leaf on its back. When she asked about it, he said simply that his name meant 'Greenleaf'. It was a nice touch, she thought.

"Varis transcribed the rules and the carpenters cut the wood for me," Seren went on. "It was a group effort."

"Which began with your idea," Ceridwen put in.

Legolas smiled up at her and his gaze slipped sideways, telling her Thranduil had risen and approached her side. "Thank you." He spoke to his father and Seren felt a strange twinge of pain but a moment later, Legolas was in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her once. "Thank you Seren."

She returned the embrace, feeling her eyes sting a little. "I'm glad you like it."

"I love it!" He stepped back with a laugh. He looked at Thranduil, eyes bright. "We played this many times while I was on Earth! It's quite fun. Remember when I beat Tal?" He directed this to Seren.

She laughed. "I remember you pouting about me helping you when Tal said we were cheating. I would never have done such a thing."

"But it's in Elvish now!" He looked down at the game and then cast a slow, sly look to her. "Now _you_ are the one who needs help playing…"

"How _is_ it played?" Nuinethir cut in.

Legolas grinned mischievously. "I will show you."

He called for four other players but Seren declined, content to watch him play though she did help explain to other elves what the rules were. The parchment bearing those rules was passed around as each player read them in turn and Seren returned to her chair, curling up in it to sip wine and watch.

Thranduil took his chair behind her again and after a time, he remarked, "He truly adores your gift."

Seren leaned her head back and to the side to look at him. "He appreciates everything he's received."

"Appreciates, yes," Thranduil agreed with a slight nod. "I think your gift brings him a measure of the kind of joy for which these celebrations were intended."

Seren smiled though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "That's very kind of you to say."

Her mind had become preoccupied with thoughts of her brother. It was times like these that she missed him most. One moment she was happy and the next, it felt agonizingly hollow because he was gone. Her heart thumped as she imagined that Tal would have been the one to teach the others Bruce's forms and how he and Legolas would have traded an argument over it and then, to be magnanimous, Taliesin would have offered to spar right then and there, much to Legolas's delight. She could see it all so clearly in her head that it _hurt_.

She rose from the table and slipped behind the group surrounding Legolas and her passing went unnoticed amid the cheery exchanges. Her strides were purposeful as she traveled the corridor outside the ballroom but the moonlight that spilled over her as she passed the arches cut into the stone stopped her. A long balcony outside beckoned and she stepped out into the night, gazing up at the sky.

It was silent and yet the air didn't feel still. She watched the stars and her turmoil eased until only the familiar heavy sadness remained. She couldn't let go of the thought that Tal should be alive even as the stars above soothed her with assurances that he had fulfilled his purpose and was at peace. She tried to imagine that. She had no photos, no memories, save those she had drawn and those she kept in her mind. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks and memories played through her head. She wished all at once that she could stop it but she also didn't want to forget.

Thranduil stood in the dark of the hallway, watching Seren as she contemplated the sky. He'd followed her out, curious about her sudden departure. Now he could see that she was troubled and the sight of the stars seemed to bring her peace. He envied her for that. She shed her grief as she stood there, unaware of him. The moon and stars above seemed to hang a little lower and shine a bit softer for her. He chanced a step out onto the balcony and the light felt… like peace. The stars hummed inaudibly and imperceptibly in his thoughts.

He took a few more steps until he was near Seren but he withheld his question when he saw her profile. Her eyes had closed and she listened to the world. Sorrow etched her features and a gentle glow shone there. The light he had seen before in the vault and now he could see the shadow of Tal's loss lingering within it. When she opened her eyes again, the green was ablaze with the sapphire glow of the moon.

Suddenly aware she wasn't alone; she looked toward him and smiled sadly. "I miss him," she said, turning her attention to the little forest where Tal was buried.

Without a conscious thought to do so, Thranduil set a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"I know."

She inhaled a shaky breath. "I never told Legolas this… but there was a moment that Taliesin faltered. He wanted to protect me. If I had listened to him, I would still have my brother."

Thranduil slipped his hand away and clasped it with the other in front of him. "Could you have lived with the cost?"

She lowered her head. "No. I believed there was no one else who would go after Legolas and I couldn't just leave him to those suits and hope for the best. I didn't know we'd run into you."

"Quite literally," Thranduil replied, with a smirk.

Seren smiled at the reminder of how she had first met the king. It was disorienting to think of that moment from where she stood now.

Thranduil tilted his head. "Had that not occurred, I doubt I would have been able to retrieve Legolas before it was too late."

Seren blinked, surprise plain on her features.

"Everyone has their faults, even I," he said with a pointed arched brow. "Pride is not one of them, however. You are not the only one who has thought of that day, but there is no difference you or I might have made that would have saved everyone."

He turned toward the little forest and drew in a long breath. "You made your decision and so Taliesin made the only one that he could make. Had that been different, you might have your brother but I would mourn my son this day. He is the only memory I have…" he swallowed as the words stuck in his throat.

Seren studied him for a moment but turned toward the view beyond before speaking again. "He wishes he could recall her better. He remembers only glimpses."

From her periphery, she saw Thranduil jerk his head toward her, his expression equally horrified, wounded and no small amount of rage. She didn't meet his gaze, knowing she couldn't bear the weight of it. "He spoke of her the day after we buried Tal."

Thranduil's gaze bore into her profile and she stepped closer to the balcony's railing and laid her hands upon it. The cold stone steadied her nerves as she continued. "I think…" She felt outwardly braver than the jangling nerves within as she finally turned toward him. "He wishes it because you are alone in knowing what was lost – equally as much as he simply wishes to know his mother. This day, of all days, you could share her with him. He would cherish no other gift more."

The air was heavy and still as they stared at one another. Thranduil vibrated within his skin where he stood. Conflicting reactions demanded immediate expression but none would he dare allow. He had no words, for many thoughts wanted to be spoken at once and the only one he didn't fear was the anger at Seren for daring to speak to him of such things. The insightful truth about Legolas was the only thing holding back his tongue. Everything else, he refused to utter.

Finally, the silence was broken when Seren breathed deep.

She could think of nothing else and she didn't want to chance what kind of response she'd get if he felt the expectation to respond by her continued presence, so she drifted past him and went back to the hallway.

 _What have I done…?_ She thought, watching him as he stood alone there under the moonlight. She continued on to her chambers for her sketchbook as she had planned, her nerves threatening to spill her to her doom from the numerous catwalks and platforms along the way.

When she returned to the celebration, Thranduil was nowhere in sight.


	18. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Esgaroth begins, and a she accepts that compromise can sometimes be useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being patient. I wanted to reach a certain point with this chapter before posting but alas, work and life have made writing difficult. I hope you enjoy this sleepy little installment. Thank you for reading! =D

Seren clasped her pine hued cloak closed about her neck, smoothing down the dark chocolate colored tunic she wore. The wool garment fell almost to her knees and was embroidered on the hem with plum colored vines. It was strange to wear heavy trousers again and she tugged the thick black fabric away from her skin futilely. She let the cloak fall closed and checked her satchel one last time before shouldering it and leaving her chambers.

The day was dark and cold. Winter had fully set upon the land and snow fell softly outside. This was the day the elvenking had planned to set out for Esgaroth. Five days after Legolas's celebration, an elf she'd seen before but didn't know had unceremoniously reminded her that the king expected her to be ready to depart by dawn.

She inhaled against the ache in her lungs that came whenever she thought of Thranduil. In the days since they'd spoken, she hadn't seen him, not even in passing. She'd grown used to his random appearances during the day and the total absence of him bothered her more than she expected. She knew it was silly and it didn't help her at all but that didn't ease the hard feeling under her ribs. It was for the best. The direction her feelings would lead was a one-way street. Seren held no illusions about the king, though at times – for a brief and mad moment – he made her wonder a little. Her experience with infatuation was limited. Yet she did know that it always dwindled to nothing eventually. She would quietly let this fade. The boundaries surrounding their stations could help her keep a certain distance. The last thing she wanted was to be made a fool over something that could never be.

She sighed and tried to shake her thoughts away as she made her way to Nuineri's kitchen for breakfast. This early, there were few people about so her walk was quiet and she was left to study the architecture to keep her mind busy. When Nuinethir rounded a corner, nearly hitting her with the swing of his light brown locks, she was grateful to see a familiar and friendly face.

"Are you ready to see your first human city here in Middle Earth?" He practically bounced on his feet, obviously excited about leaving the kingdom for a little while.

"I just want to get this over with. I have a painting I'm anxious to return to."

"It will wait," the Quickstrider said with a laugh. "Surely it will be good to see others of your own kind?"

"There is a reason I was living high up on a mountain back on Earth, Nuinethir," she replied with a good humored scoff. "Still, I am curious about Middle Earth."

He chuckled and followed her to their favorite kitchen. They found Nuineri elbows deep in flour, making bread when they entered. There was a change in the scent of the humid air and Seren inhaled deeply.

"Cinnamon?"

The cook smiled. "I thought maybe something a little different might be nice. Help yourselves."

Nuinethir took two plates from a stack and handed one to Seren and they began loading them with fruit, rolls and a dish of some kind of small medallions of a light meat, prepared in a delicate sauce. The hall adjacent to the kitchen was nearly deserted and they ate in companionable silence. The Quickstrider would be among the guard the elvenking was taking and his travel clothes were of various shades of mossy green over light leather armor. They left the hall together and Seren kept close to him as he saw to the preparations that were being finished.

Soon enough, it was time to gather in the main hall and take final counts of everything. Seren spotted bundles that she knew to be tents and asked Nuinethir about them.

"The king prefers to stay in our own lodgings just inside the forest by Esgaroth," he said as he busied himself with checking his own equipment. After a moment of tugging on buckles, he looked up at her with a grin. "Don't worry, they will be plenty warm."

Seren smiled. "I never doubted that."

A shift in the activity around her alerted Seren to the king's presence and she was slow to turn around. She steeled herself but her nerves still felt plucked like a well-played instrument when she laid eyes on him standing on a higher platform behind them. An intricate antique silver circlet sat on his brow and bore a single gem in the middle of his forehead. She guessed his muted dark green tunic was meant to be practical but it suited him. It had the same tailored fit characteristic of all his garments and the absence of shining fabric allowed the contours of his form to stand out, though she really wished her mind hadn't noticed.

"Everything is in order, my lord," Nuinethir said and bowed minutely at the waist.

"Good," Thranduil said as he descended the stairs between them. The knee-length tunic swayed open from the waist to reveal black trousers, polished high black boots and a silver buckled belt. With a nod, he sent Nuinethir and the others to take up their burdens and they all dispersed, leaving Seren where she stood.

Thranduil's gaze took in her dark wool traveling clothes and scanned over the pack strapped on her shoulders before meeting her eyes. There was a cold quality to the look and it was an effort not to turn away but she kept her chin up and met him with a dispassionate stare.

"If you do not wish to do this, now is your last opportunity to remain here."

He'd come to stop in front of her and she had to tilt her head back to maintain eye contact.

"I said I'd go. I still wish to reject Lagdar's gesture personally." She adopted a lower tone but kept her words civil and bland. "If my presence will be a hindrance, however…"

He came one step closer, speaking as low as she. The shift from cold stillness to heated anger in his expression was instantaneous.

"Your presence is welcome," he said, his words dangerously soft. Somehow Seren knew he wasn't referring to their journey to Esgaroth. He leaned over just a little but it was enough for her to feel the warmth of him, and he spoke lower yet. "The only hindrance is your choice of words." Just as suddenly, he pulled back, brows furrowed. "Choose them with greater care in the future."

Seren swallowed and stepped back, staring at him. She couldn't answer him; not in the way he expected and the words stuck in her throat.

He tilted his head, his expression puzzled. Her stomach was jumping under her ribs and she dragged in a breath to settle it. "They were chosen with care, my lord."

She matched his stare for a few moments and then turned away to join the others, feeling Thranduil's scowl bore into her back. It would be easy to bow and move on but she couldn't bring herself to do that. She had only meant well and she couldn't accept anyone having the kind of command over her autonomy that he just demanded.

He said nothing else to her, instead passing to the front of their group where Legolas stood. They said their goodbyes and the king waited for his guard to begin leaving before slipping into their formation. Seren remained toward the rear with Nuinethir and Caireann. When she passed Legolas, he stopped her.

"He will let this go in time."

Seren glanced toward the departing party. "He told you?"

"No," the prince said with a soft smile. "He couldn't. That was all I needed to make a guess."

Her chuckle was mirthless as she studied her boots. "I'm surprised I wasn't banished."

"If anyone else had dared to mention my mother, I would agree," Legolas said solemnly.

That stirred Seren's curiosity. "What do you mean?"

"Never underestimate the gravity of the debt he and I owe you." After a moment's pause, he smirked and added, "But don't let it go to your head."

Seren shook her head, smiling a little. "Good luck keeping down the fort." She turned from him and headed through the doors. "And no wild parties or I will take away all of your toys!"

"I only have one!" he called back just before the doors closed behind her.

* * *

"Lady Galadriel," Elrond stepped into the circular pavilion at his front gate to greet his kin.

Galadriel embraced him with a smile while her retinue fanned out around them, speaking with other elves that had come out to welcome them.

"Your journey was not too arduous, I trust," he said as they parted.

"Winter comes quickly this year," she replied. With a word to her guards, they were left to see that everyone was settled in and she fell into stride with her son-in-law.

They strolled into a long, covered walkway that would take them into Rivendell's main estate and spoke idly of Galadriel's desire to see her grandchildren. It was an obvious topic and the reason for her visit wasn't broached until Elrond had escorted her to a deserted library.

"You knew I would come," she said suddenly.

Elrond tipped his head forward, his ebony hair sliding over a shoulder. "There is something I would show you."

Galadriel followed him with her gaze, head turning slowly as he strode to a shelf and removed a little wooden box. Her eyes never left him as he set the box on a table before her.

"You have seen what I have seen," she stated suddenly. "You know who has returned."

Elrond didn't deny it. His Sight was a pale shadow of her own but he did occasionally catch glimpses of the broader workings of the world.

"How?"

Elrond raised his guileless blue eyes to her. "This."

He opened the box and Galadriel fully turned to face the silver-white glow that spilled from it. "I can no longer wield its magic."

Her eyes were wide and her mouth went slack. "The sigil of the Trees… How did this come to you?"

Elrond stared down at the box between his hands. "I was entrusted with it and sworn to its safe keeping."

Galadriel studied the intricate shape, seeing through its light and finding the center dark. "One stone has no light."

Elrond smiled and it was almost joyful. "One Guardian still lives. The rightful bearer of this pendant has returned to Middle Earth."

Galadriel smiled in return. "Until this moment, I held a glimmer of doubt in the accuracy of my visions. It should not be possible."

Elrond tilted his head in thought. "Where Mandos is involved, I choose to discard the notion that anything is impossible." He stared down at the treasure he'd guarded for most of his years. "Whether her return is by chance or design, I cannot say; but the danger to the guardian is as real now as during the kinslayings."

"Ungoliant is gone but Shelob remains," Galadriel said with a touch of fear. "Like her mother, her thirst to consume the light of Telperion and Laurelin will drive her to seek the guardian out.

Elrond nodded slowly and closed the box. "Mandos chose to interfere because she so desired to see the light of her companions returned to Valinor. Her task remains unfinished."

Galadriel raised her gaze from the table to meet his. "You know what awaits her. You cannot give her this until she is ready."

"We will go to the Greenwood together," Elrond said, conviction in his words.

"If that is not what the council decides…"

"It is what is right. As she is now, Sauron can take the power she possesses. If she is made to understand…"

"Can we trust a human with that knowledge?" Galadriel studied him intently as his eyes lost their focus and looked back to a day ages past. "You know Saruman will ask if you believe it worth the risk. It is not unthinkable that she could be turned into a weapon to be used against us and he may demand that she be destroyed rather than take such a chance."

Elrond released a long held breath. "I knew her. I believe in her. I saw what she would sacrifice to thwart The Enemy. The same light shines within the human who bears her fea. I would not see it lost again."

* * *

"Here you are," Nuinethir said and held open the tent for her.

Seren entered and looked around the little octagon shape. "Well it's not home," she smiled, "but it'll do."

A small cylinder cage no higher than her knees held logs that were burning within and was set in the middle of the space. It was surprisingly warm, as Nuinethir had claimed it would be. Two bed rolls lay on the far side and her pack hung on a hook on one of the tent's poles. Caireann's hung on the opposite side.

The king had decided to make camp when the sun disappeared behind the mountains. Esgaroth was only a few more hours' travel along the river but it wouldn't do to cause alarm in the middle of the night. Seren had busied herself with helping to set things up and someone started handing out bundles of bread and fruit. When she finished hers, Nuinethir escorted her to the tent she and Caireann were to use.

It was small, like all the others except Thranduil's. The king's tent was impossible to miss. Two or three times as large as the rest and erected against the stone of the ridge behind them, guards were stationed at both entrances and it was flanked by a set of small tents for the guards on either side. Hers was set slightly behind the guard tent to the right, pinched in by yet another guard tent to the left of that. The gap between was just big enough for her to pass between them and to the opening of her tent. All of the tents were staggered like this – seven in total, arcing like a crescent moon with the king's in the middle. A large fire in the center of their camp site offered ambient heat to the assembled structures and the river flowed behind the tents on the left.

"I feel a little spoiled," she said as she gazed out to the guard tents. "You all have to crowd four of you into one while we are just two."

Nuinethir smiled. "You might feel spoiled but it is only out of necessity and propriety."

Caireann entered then. "Speaking of propriety, it's time for you to leave." She shooed a smiling Nuinethir out and closed the flap of their tent, turning to see Seren giggling quietly.

The warrior raised an eyebrow at her and a moment later, she smirked. When she reached behind her back for the laces on her armor, Seren stopped her.

"I can help you with that."

Caireann appraised her for a moment before turning around. Deftly, Seren pulled the knots out of the ties and began loosening the leather cords, mindful not to pull them entirely out.

"You're familiar with this?" Caireann turned her head to watch Seren from her periphery.

Seren smiled at her handiwork. "I used to help my father and brother with their costumes when they'd compete in tournaments and reenactments." She tugged once last time at all the laces and loosely tied the ends together so they wouldn't come out.

She stepped back and Caireann pulled the leather over her head. "You speak of them with such love," she said. "Their loss pains you still."

Sudden emotion trapped the words in Seren's throat. She swallowed. "The ones we love never really leave us."

"I suppose it is a comfort to keep them alive in that way." The elf pondered for a moment but soon, her grey eyes began to shine. "I miss Haavelas."

Watching her, Seren felt her own sadness swell within her and she did something she had needed to do since the night her brother died. She pulled Caireann into a tight embrace and taller woman accepted the hug with grateful relief. The hurt she felt echoed back at her and it was a cathartic release as they both shed tears for those they'd lost. Like Seren, Caireann had lost the last person she had to lose. She hugged her friend a little tighter.

After a few more moments, Caireann pulled back and wiped at her eyes. Her long pointed ears were as red as her cheeks.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Seren smiled, still wiping wetness from her face. "It was long overdue." She recalled Nuinethir's grin at the warrior as he left and in an effort to lighten the mood, she teased, "So, what do you suppose Nuinethir was smiling about before you sent him off?"

"I cannot say." Caireann smiled sheepishly and bent to unlace her greaves. "I do have a suspicion, however."

Seren's grin widened. "You could always ask him about it."

The look Caireann returned was devilish. "I could… but he believes he's being subtle."

Seren snorted and it brought a giggle from the warrior. "I will let him think that for now."

"You like his attention," Seren said, helping to pull a bracer from one of Caireann's wrist.

"I do. I will tell him soon but for the moment, I find the effort he's making while trying to hide how obvious it is rather endearing."

The second bracer was set down with its mate. Now free of all her leathers, Caireann pulled out a book and sat on her bedroll and it seemed the moment was over.

Not knowing what else to do with herself, Seren removed her cloak and took out her sketchbook and tried to begin a new drawing. The book spread open to the drawing of Legolas that Thranduil had been fond of. The spine was thoroughly cracked there and now she had to be careful when opening it. It struck her as an oddly appropriate parallel to the one who had broken it. She sighed as she turned the pages to the sketches she'd made a few days ago.

Everyone was rendered in the pages, except the king. He was indicated by the back of his head in a couple of the images from before the chat they'd had on the balcony. She had sketched them from memory, not wanting to seem as though she purposely excluded him from the depictions of the celebration. Yet, despite her best efforts, she couldn't render him. She had always had trouble and at first, she thought it was her grief for her brother stealing her motivation. Yet she could draw everyone else. She could picture them in her mind and produce what she saw on paper but Thranduil was less clear in her thoughts. She could see him but it was as if there another image of him, lying over what she recalled. It was like having one eye out of focus.

Seren opened the last drawing. It was another of Legolas, this time from his Day of Beginning and he was smiling with laughter. She absent-mindedly began to shade it, enjoying the busy work while her thoughts tumbled freely.

As always, they turned toward Thranduil. She groaned to herself mentally and continued shading. She had no idea what she could say to the king but it was clear that she must. She had to begin somewhere. It occurred to her that she could apologize as he expected her to, rather than antagonize him further. Arguing with him, no matter how well meaning, only made everything messier. She might not regret her intent but she did regret that her words seemed to wound him. It was presumptuous of her to speak to him of his past in such a way. In her conviction to say something she thought would help a friend, she had been blind to that.

* * *

Thranduil paced in his tent, agitation taking over his composure now that he had nothing to occupy his mind. He detested this waiting. Esgaroth was settled for the night and there was little else to do. It wasn't a consolation when he needed to not be idle.

A giggle from Caireann's and Seren's tent made him pause and he scowled in their direction. He wondered how the human could be at ease after their recent conversations. First she had the gall to speak to him of things she had no business to and then defied him when he offered a command that was as much an offer of truce as it was a decree. He was within his right to throw her into a dungeon cell for a few days for defying it. The command itself was unimportant. She had failed to acknowledge it. She had turned away from him without dismissal.

" _They were chosen with care, my lord."_

He understood that she meant well. He was willing to see that. In the moment before they left the kingdom, he had also seen he was unwilling to levy a punitive decision against Seren. When the time came, when it would have been appropriate; he had not considered the words, never mind utter them.

He wondered when his regard of her had changed so drastically or if it had never been what it should have in the first place, beginning with the moment he had allowed her to forego his title. Of course she used it now in most appropriate settings but she didn't stand on ceremony like everyone else. She respected his authority but her attitude toward him was too casual.

As he considered how their interactions should have been different, an uncomfortable truth emerged: He had failed to maintain his distance. Many times he had personally sought her out, rather than have her brought before him. They'd spoken often – at times of trivial things – and in casual settings. When she was provoked enough to use his name, he hadn't corrected her. He had told himself she was still adjusting and that he didn't wish to stall their conversation over something so minor. Now when he recalled those moments, the little jump in his chest that came with the memory proved that perhaps he had deceived himself.

He shook his head and went to a table set with a wine service. He was spending far too much time thinking about this. As king, he knew there could only be one response to his unease. Seren had been among his kin for nearly three months now. She no longer required his oversight. As he sipped his wine, he felt better telling himself that he simply needed to maintain an appropriate distance.

A round of raucous laughter echoed through the camp suddenly and Thranduil went to an entrance of his tent and peered toward a gathering by the fire. He saw Seren standing among them and her sketchbook was being passed around. Someone said something and more laughter rang out, Seren chuckling with them.

Firelight danced on her features as her eyes twinkled with mirth and Thranduil felt as though his wine had settled sour and heavy in his stomach. He swallowed and breathed deep to settle it.

Seren's neck prickled and she looked toward Thranduil's tent, startled to see that he was indeed standing there. Her smile faltered when he scowled at them and he gestured for her to enter before turning away. She inhaled deeply, coming to a decision and took her sketchbook from another elf. After carefully tearing a page free, she crossed the distance to the large tent. The guard standing by the entrance simply nodded as she passed and she stepped just inside, staring at the king's back.

Thranduil stiffened, aware he was no longer alone and stared out at the moon beyond the second entrance of his tent.

For many moments, neither said a word and Seren watched the king's back as he hadn't acknowledged her yet. When she did speak, her words were quiet, almost whispered.

"I meant my earlier words. I can't take them back. I did not intend to cause you harm, however. I will… respect your wishes on the matter."

Silence loomed heavy in the space for a few moments more before Thranduil replied. He sounded tired even to his own ears.

"You are here because you saved Legolas and because of the life debt I owe your brother. If these things were not so, you would have been escorted to a human city. I am in a quandary about what exactly to do. Obedience of one's king is all that is required."

His eyes fell closed as he said this. He hadn't turned around and even now he knew he was faltering again, failing to explicitly classify himself and her in their specific places. After a moment, he turned his profile partially towards her. "Who are you to tell me that you respect anything I decide? You are far too informal when addressing me. You seem to think you can pick and choose which acknowledgements you will observe and you openly refuted what I said this morning. These transgressions are enough to warrant putting you in the dungeon for a time."

Seren swallowed and stepped closer, lowering her voice further. "I haven't forgotten what I agreed to… but I cannot accept anyone's total command over my autonomy. I can only promise to be more mindful, my lord."

She used the title now to enforce the distance she wanted to keep. She needed to care less personally about him. The fact that it stung to hear him speak with bitterness toward her was proof of that.

"I won't make a promise that I don't know I can keep; that my tongue won't get the better of me again when my intentions seem better than keeping silent…"

Slowly he half turned toward her. "But you will try." It was more of a question than a statement.

He finally met her gaze and his expression was like hard glass bottled around a storm. She swallowed and slowly nodded.

"Good," he said abruptly, some of his usual demeanor seeming to click back into place. He gazed toward the view outside again for several moments. He was mollified to some extent and drew another breath to speak.

"What do you intend to say about Lagdar's transgression toward you?"

Seren blinked. "I suppose… simply that his courtship is unwanted and that the injury the Lothrim caused was an offense he should make reparations for."

Thranduil hummed in approval. "If you wish to be seen as a citizen of the Greenwood, I would suggest you wear the sigil you were given."

Seren smirked, more to herself than to him. She had brought the intricate bronze and gold clasp for that reason. "I have every intention of it."

That surprised him and he fully turned to face her, eyebrows high on his forehead. His mouth clipped closed when their gazes met. She stood there, confident in this and he had to remind himself that she hadn't forsworn her home just because she had slighted him. It eased his concerns a small measure.

Seren forced the jitters down and made her body still, appearing calmer than she felt. "If there's nothing else, my lord?"

The elvenking blinked. Still she stood there, hands clasped behind her back as she waited to be dismissed.

"No… That will be all."

Seren nodded her head down once and turned on her heel. Before she made it two steps, his voice stopped her.

"I did not forget that your intention was kind, Seren."

She didn't turn, feeling his eyes on her profile. "Of course. I'm glad."

He watched her, standing there and making eye contact from the far periphery of her vision and he wondered why everything seemed odd. After a moment, he simply bid her goodnight and she was gone.

When he returned his attention to the space she'd occupied, he spied a piece of the strange paper that he knew existed only in her sketchbook on the larger table he had set for meals. There was writing on it and he lifted the page to the light: " _Legolas, Day of Beginning, TA 2946_ "

Thranduil's hand shook a little as he turned the paper over and his chest tightened as his son's smiling face stared back at him. It was a moment from the prince's celebration, captured on parchment. Unlike the rest of the sketches he'd seen, it was shaded and highlighted. Though it lacked color, he felt as though he was staring through a window into his own memory.

Thranduil sank slowly into a chair, almost missing it as he stared transfixed at the image. Gently, he touched the contours of Legolas's face, marveling at how precise the detail was rendered. Even the ears were the correct shape, unique to Legolas and the eyes shone brightly at him from laugh crinkled lines. Thranduil was so absorbed in the drawing; he didn't hear Nuinethir's approach.

The Quickstrider slowed to a halt just outside the tent and took in the King's countenance. If anyone could manage to appear tragically gutted and awestruck simultaneously, it was the elvenking. Nuinethir stood there, watching for a moment and smiled. To his own amusement he thought, " _And the victor this round is Seren_."

He turned away and resolved to try again to speak with the king later. His departure went equally as unnoticed as his arrival.


	19. Bones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A veil Seren didn't know existed has been pulled from her eyes. Another piece to the puzzle falls.
> 
> (I suck at summaries when I've been up all night)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry to be gone so long! My PC needed some new parts and I was without my files or anyway to retrieve them until it was fixed. Anyhoo... Also work has been crazy - so crazy I busted my shoulder. Oops. it's been awhile so I'm really just trying to get back in the saddle again. I hate taking breaks from creative works because it almost always spells doom. This chapter has been difficult because I'm trying to find my stride again so please bear with me if it seems awkward. I hope the next few chapters will be more on key. At any rate, I hope you enjoy this. And I'll be posting again soon! Ta!

"Esgaroth," Nuinethir said to Seren. They stood on a hill overlooking the shores of an immense lake, the Long Lake.

She took in the sight of the city built on the water. In the distance, north of the settlement, large bones protruded from the glass-like surface amidst the remnants of the old town. She gazed at them transfixed, trying to imagine a great flying serpent. It was the sort of thing she'd only ever read about in fantasy novels or seen in films. In Middle Earth, however, dragons were no fantasy. She stared at the rounded planes of what could only be Smaug's skull partially submerged in the water.

A faint odor drifted on the breeze and she wrinkled her nose. Nuinethir sniffed the air and grimaced. "What is that?"

Seren breathed deeply to catch the scent again, wishing she hadn't. "I've smelled this before, in the fields…"

She took several steps toward the partially submerged hulk of the dragon's skeleton. "It's coming from that direction." She pointed north and followed the lake's embankment.

"Should we not travel a direction _opposite_ such an awful stench?" The runner called after her.

Seren tossed a look over her shoulder at him. "Don't you find it strange that some unknown fungus just appeared in our lands?"

"I've always thought it was the darkness of Sauron. It is a symptom of the corruption he spreads."

"Does that mean you look for no other answers?"

She grabbed fistfuls of her pale blue-grey dress and lifted it a little before taking off at a run. A brief sprint took her far from the main group. She came to a stop only when the foul air thickened enough to make her feel sick.

Nuinethir sighed and jogged after her. As he drew closer, his expression soured further. "Oh that is truly disgusting!"

They were near enough Smaug's bones to see that strips of dry sinew and patches of tissue, some still bearing skin, clung to them. A slimy reddish-brown film coated the water and stones of the shore.

Approaching footsteps halted any further wandering and they turned to see several of their kin marching up to them. In the distance, the rest of their party had halted. Seren could make out Thranduil's form sitting astride his white horse, facing them. Tiny though he was, she thought she could see his dark frown across the distance. The thought made her laugh a little to herself.

As the newcomers drew near, they slowed and their expressions registered the stench.

"Why would you venture here?" Eleros demanded.

"This is what I smelled in our fields. It's the fungus that has been ruining our crops," Seren declared.

The advisor Thranduil had brought along stepped out from between two warriors. He was a pale yellow haired, tan skinned elf by the name of Tellis. His painfully lean form was dressed in light beige colors and furs to match. "It is a common fungus in stagnant bodies of water that have served as a grave."

He gestured at Smaug's remains. "This lake is the tomb of many recent dead, including that monstrosity. It is to be expected."

Seren chewed on this information for a moment, assessing the dragon's corpse. "There's still some flesh on his bones…"

"Lore teaches that dragons can take many generations to fully decompose," Tellis replied.

"And the scent of this fungus is strongest here."

Tellis didn't seem to understand what she was getting at. "It requires warm, well watered soil to thrive. The water is freezing so the fungus's odor is strongest where it's most abundant here on the shores. It will die as winter progresses and return next year unless Smaug's remains are properly disposed."

Nuinethir exhaled heavily through his nose suddenly. He was tense with anger. "There are no dragons rotting in the river that waters our crops…"

Tellis's gray-brown eyes widened. "The river moves south from our kingdom. If it was deliberately brought to our fields…"

Seren's smile was more like an animal baring its teeth. "You're catching on."

Tellis scowled at her. "We need to inform the king."

She nodded and gestured for him to lead the way. The willowy elf turned on his heel, quick strides taking him back the way he came. The rest who'd followed him were close behind.

Nuinethir cast a long glance at the sinister hulk and turned away. "Even in death, he is still a menace." With that, he began a brisk walk back toward the others, leaving Seren to stare at the skeleton alone.

The skull lay sideways, staring at the shoreline. She gazed into the empty sockets where his eyes had once been. They were as large as a car. Scraps of dark skin clung to the dome of his brow. It was five years after his death and yet he seemed to glare at her. The ribs jutting up out of the water hinted at a body cavity bigger than a large house. The teeth Smaug still had were longer and thicker than her arms.

This thing had been real. Dragons existed here. For that matter, elves existed. Dwarves, wizards and beings called hobbits; walking trees and trolls and some powerful malevolence everyone feared, orcs - all of that… was real here in Middle Earth. Her lessons with Varis hadn't prepared her for the most important truth: Knowing them to be real was very different than _living_ with that reality.

Suddenly she felt extremely out of place. Suddenly it felt like she had to be dreaming. On Earth, creatures existed in myths and the only evil was that within the hearts of people – it wasn't a tangible force with a will of its own. There was no magic in her world. Seren went still and an ache filled her chest. _There is no magic there… but there is magic here._

For several moments the feeling she was surely about to wake up, and panic that the delusion hadn't yet ended, gripped her. Then she remembered it all anew: the night Legolas fell to the snow before her eyes, her home's violent destruction, running from orcs, her brother's bloody chest, a portal to a world that hummed in her head, a dying seedling, a party and a full moon and new faces – so many faces… _Legolas, Haavelas, Caireann, Nuinethir, Ceridwen, Menui, Nuineri, Varis, Eleros…_ And then he was there: _Thranduil…_

She saw him. For the first time, in her mind's eye, she saw not just a vague pale form dressed in shimmering fabrics and jewels. She saw the face she knew him to have. Then the image shifted. Half of that face distorted into a ghastly mess of red, shining scars and a pale, milky eye. With the intact blue eye, he stared at her, daring her to look away and challenging her not to, angry and fearing yet hoping and not sure of what or why. Under the chaos she felt a keen pain that was physical and emotional. It permeated everything she was, both unbearable and vague. As she watched Thranduil's face return to the visage she knew, the distortions danced over the image like flames.

The world slammed back into focus and Seren stumbled from one foot to another, dragging in great gulps of air. She stared again at the skull in the water, shaking with fear of meeting that void with her gaze. It was just a giant structure of bone but it felt like it was still alive. _Magic…_ She shivered.

Several more long and heavy moments passed as she found her equilibrium and she glanced toward Nuinethir. He wasn't far, still walking from her as if he just left. Shaking her head, she hurried after him and matched his stride, staring at the ground.

He glanced at her and then looked again, studying her for a little while. "Are you alright, Seren? You seem… disturbed."

"I'm fine," she answered automatically. Her words sounded curt, even to herself. She sighed. "I've never seen a dragon before – even a dead one. It was… unnerving."

The quickstrider nodded. "Not many who do live to speak of it."

"Have you?"

Nuinethir inhaled sharply. "I haven't; not a living one. The dragon wars were before my time. I saw Smaug shortly after his death."

"Varis told me about the attack he brought to the men of Laketown and that a bowman took him down with a single arrow."

"He loosed several before firing the one that put an end to Smaug," Nuinethir said, slightly petulant.

"I just meant that Smaug wasn't overcome by might but by one true shot after everything else had failed." To her own ears, her voice sounded hollow and she felt outside of herself.

"King Thranduil fought them in great numbers. More than half the Sindar of his generation perished," Nuinethir said.

Unbidden, Seren immediately recalled the specter of the king's half ruined face. "Was he wounded?"

"I am sure he likely suffered his share of injuries, but there were healers on hand. To my knowledge, he has no lasting ailments."

Seren looked ahead to Thranduil, sitting in a saddle on a mount that contrasted his dark armor. He seemed utterly unreal to her. They all did. Tellis was walking next to the king, speaking urgently. She and Nuinethir had rejoined their group properly and the whole company resumed their trek to the wooded area just south of the lake.

Her friend continued silently beside her but his gaze drifted in the direction of Caireann. She was positioned near the front of the elvenking's retinue and fully armored in gold.

"I'm fine here; you don't need to stay with me, Nuinethir."

The Quickstrider blinked and looked down, kicking a small rock out of his path. "I did not think I was so obvious."

Seren managed a small smile. "Only just enough for me to see."

A look of alarm crossed the elf's features. "Does Caireann know?"

"I couldn't say. That is something you must ask her."

Nuinethir gazed in Caireann's direction once again and darted a quick glance at Seren before lengthening his strides to catch up with the warrior.

The sudden movement caught Thranduil's attention and he looked back toward Seren, raising a brow in silent query. She nodded toward Caireann.

The king turned his attention forward as the member of his guard laughed nervously in greeting to his kin. Thranduil's eyes widened and he gazed back at Seren, an almost accusatory but good natured look of shock on his face. A giggle, more hysterical than mirthful, burst from her. A few elves glanced warily at her and she restrained any further outbursts.

Now without company, Seren thought back to the discussion she had over breakfast with the elvenking. He desired to renegotiate the trade agreement the wood elves held with the town on the lake. The severity of her accusations against Lagdar would help to pressure the Master into making the concessions Thranduil wanted.

She reminded herself that Lagdar had violated the laws of the Greenwood; trespassing, transporting undocumented and potentially dangerous goods and causing harm to a citizen of the woodland realm. There were consequences. Thranduil had been thorough in explaining the laws. She just hoped she didn't misstep. Diplomacy wasn't her strong suit.

Soon they reached the gate that led out onto the water and their escort divided into a group of twenty-four who would accompany the king and twelve who would set up their camp among the trees. Those staying behind took hold of the mounts as they were abandoned and parted around her so she eventually stood near Thranduil and Nuinethir. Human men in light leather armor greeted them and after a short conversation with Tellis, they were led onto the long wooden catwalk.

Nuinethir walked with her once more and watched her with worry. "Are you alright? You need only to air your grievances, nothing more."

Seren laughed a little and it was strained. "Are you reading my thoughts?"

"That is not one of my gifts. I simply wished to offer reassurance."

"Thank you." She didn't particularly feel ready for this; her earlier melancholy still lingered. "I don't care to deal with anyone like Lagdar and this Master. Yet I put myself in this predicament when I could have simply let the matter go."

"Yes, you could have…" Nuinethir conceded. "So why did you agree?"

"To help the elves of the Greenwood, of course," she said, as if it was obvious. She glanced at the king as she said this and then immediately moved her gaze.

Nuinethir chuckled quietly. He would lay odds that Seren had really only been thinking of helping one elf in particular.

"I'm not used to dealing with matters such as this. The mistakes I could commit…"

"Have more faith in yourself." Nuinethir smiled encouragingly, though he was amused by a thought: Seren easily spoke her mind to anyone, even the king. He was certain the coming meeting would be entertaining. "You have one legitimate, yet very simple reason for seeking an audience here today. You cannot do much harm."

Seren sighed. "Right."

They reached the end of the bridge and were escorted through the town to a large building at the center. It stood higher than the rest. Its front door sat atop a wide staircase. Their group strode up the center, never slowing or pausing. Seren turned her head as inconspicuously as she could manage. There was a town square stretched out before the main hall and little fires burned in intricate iron cages high above them. The city was impressive though it paled in comparison to the elves' sanctuary. Wooden homes stood above wooden streets and water shimmered below the countless railings.

She thought it might be nice to explore but soon they passed through the doors and entered a richly appointed hall. Polished and intricately carved wooden furniture upholstered in rich fabrics were set about the space. Long tables on either side were set near the walls and surrounded with chairs. Seren guessed it was a space of multiple purposes. Fat wooden pillars supported the ceiling and were decorated with carvings and gold. Tall windows made of little panes of glass, some colored at random, allowed the weak morning light into the room. She waited but her eyes refused to adjust to the gloom.

They stopped in the center and Seren maneuvered around a few of the guards to look at the grand chair at the end of the long blue carpet where the Master sat. It was empty.

She had drawn near to Thranduil as she stared and she gestured at the chair. "Where is he?"

The elvenking frowned and exhaled slowly through his nose. "One of the games the Master likes to play; since we are requesting an audience, he will make us wait on him rather than appear to be waiting for us."

Seren frowned. "That's silly."

Thranduil hummed in agreement, clasping his hands together behind him.

They didn't wait long however. The Master could be heard many moments before he entered the room. He and three of his guards stopped when they took in the sight of twenty-four elves and their king. After a moment of worried thought, he pasted a sickly smile on his face.

"King Thranduil!" He gushed and started forward again.

His clothes were gaudy and ridiculously adorned with baubles as well as sweat and food smears. The fabric was the color of a dull yellow gold. In a distant way, Seren realized they were a poor copy of elvish garments. The 'V' hemmed tunic was pulled unevenly over his girth, bunching and tightening with his steps. He wore a garish array of large gems on his fingers. His ratty, patchy beard appeared haphazardly brushed and his greasy hair was flattened to the top of his balding head in streaks. He grinned a rotted smile at them.

"So good to see you!"

He offered a hasty bow and Thranduil looked down at him, barely concealing his disgust. He didn't unclasp his own hands or otherwise move to return the greeting.

"I'm afraid we are beyond pleasantries, your stewardship." Thranduil said coolly. He resisted the urge to smirk when the Master's smile faltered and he nervously wiped a sweaty palm on his tunic.

The man shuffled past them and headed for his chair but stopped when he caught sight of Seren. Her stomach lurched heavily as he visually appraised her.

"So this is the human my advisor told me about. Very pretty indeed… Seems a shame you have her working in the dirt."

Seren, unable to withstand the sickening nerves his scrutiny caused, blurted, "Where is Lagdar?" She managed to keep her tone level but there was an edge to it. She watched the man as he stepped closer to his chair.

The Master looked at Thranduil; mystified the elvenking would let anyone speak to him that way.

"I'm surprised you took an orphaned human of no standing into your kingdom, my lord. Though I can't blame you for wanting… a different kind of treasure to hoard." The Master leered at her openly.

Seren bristled and took a breath to retort but Thranduil's reply came faster. His strong, deep timbre echoed through the entire hall for any to hear. "Seren is kin among the elves of the Greenwood, a citizen of our kingdom, and she has my regard."

It was an intimidating endorsement and the Master licked his lips nervously. He flicked a glance at the sigil clasping her brown velvet cloak closed and redirected his gaze to Seren's. It irritated her that this greasy weasel would have ignored her had Thranduil not spoken but such was the way of matters in Middle Earth. On her own, she was no one of consequence here.

"What is your business with Lagdar, Lady Seren?"

"That is not my salutation," she replied. The irony of having to say such a thing wasn't lost on her, though it didn't amuse her. "My name is Seren Aneira Evans. I'm here to charge your advisor, Lagdar, with an attempt on my life."

The Master blanched. "Is this some sort of joke?"

"It isn't." She clasped her hands behind her and straightened her back, projecting a calm she didn't quite feel. She itched to run from the building and find a bed so that she might awake from this bizarre dream. She thought of Tal's grave and only that kept her from bolting.

"You are aware that trade with Esgaroth has been halted," she continued. "It will not resume until Lagdar answers this charge."

It was a bluff but the man had an air of desperation about him that she could almost smell. Thranduil had been correct when he said the Master didn't want to lose the trade agreement entirely.

The Master was sweating. He tried to smile at her and dismiss the threat but the hard green stare didn't waver and Thranduil stood next to her in silent agreement, gazing through the man with his icy gaze. The Master stilled. He looked toward one of his guards and snapped his pudgy fingers.

"Get Lagdar! Now!"

The guard nearest the door turned away and went out.

"It seems a bit extreme to cancel all trade…" The master tried to sound nonchalant. "We've always held a trade contract with the wood elves."

"Yes, I know. Your fee for the goods you ferry has gone up substantially in recent years. Since it seems there is no end to your greed –"

"Greed?!" The Master made a show of offense. "Our costs have gone up! We have only adjusted our fees accordingly!"

Seren ducked her head slightly in allowance. "My mistake; I apologize. As a result of the increases, the elves expanded crop production so as to be less reliant on trade. Since this change was implemented, contaminated seedlings have made their way to us from your city. When I discovered the tainted shipments, an attempt was made on my life." Seren smiled ferally. "What are we supposed to make of that?"

For several moments the Master thought furiously over her claims as he glanced around at the elves, watching him. Seren hadn't meant to speak this much of the matter. Yet Thranduil hadn't stepped in to take the lead.

The side door opened again and the guard returned with Lagdar following. In her detachment, Seren almost laughed when he usually made her grimace. He was every bit as oily as she recalled.

Though not fat like the Master, he was stocky and doughy looking. Sweaty and grubby; his blue shirt collar was left untied and revealed a ridiculous expanse of soft flesh and chest hair in which a heavy golden pendant was tangled. When he saw her, panic flashed over his features before he schooled the emotion from his expression.

"King Thranduil, Seren…" He stopped next to the master and smiled.

"They are here to have you answer for the attempt on… Seren Aneira's life," the Master said hastily.

Lagdar's expression morphed into one of disbelief. "What?! I never!" He scowled at Seren. "What are you playing at?"

Thranduil gestured and two of his guard brought forth large sacks. They were set on the floor in front of the humans and opened. The Master and Lagdar stumbled back a little when they recognized the Lothrim. The blooms were badly withered and wrinkled but still recognizable.

"Lothrim is deadly when it is inhaled in moderate quantity," Thranduil intoned. "Several vases of this flower were arranged in Seren's chambers. Her life was nearly ended when they ejected their spores en masse. We found and apprehended the humans who claim they delivered them on your behalf."

Lagdar scoffed. "Obviously, this is a ruse. Or you're being played for a fool."

Nuinethir held out a small handful of coins bearing the sigil of Esgaroth currency and the note Lagdar had written. The Master made a funny squeak at the sight of his own gold and read the note.

Seren watched Lagdar dispassionately as the king continued. "This is the payment you made to have the flowers delivered. You identified yourself by your official title, as advisor to the Master of Esgaroth, and claimed an official purpose for the correspondence – without proper petition. The fool here is not I."

The Master turned on his advisor. "You used MY treasure and your position for this?! I never imagined you could be so stupid!" He roared.

Lagdar leaned away and glared at Seren. "I told them to buy something purple! I didn't choose the Lothrim!"

Now apoplectic, the Master shook as he pointed. "You used the seal of my office! You jeopardized the trade agreement! And for what? A pretty face?!"

"It was a gesture of courtship!"

"There are appropriate ways to make such a gesture," Thranduil said, "all of which require that you gain _my_ permission, if only because you would need to traverse my territory. You made no such request. There is also the matter of timing… It seems an extraordinary coincidence this occurred shortly after Seren discovered the tainted shipments. As she said, what are we to make of this?"

The Master huffed at Lagdar who was turning red with rage. Then a thought seemed to derail his raving.

"How can you prove the shipments were our doing?" he asked with a squint. "The fungus could have come from any of the stops your goods have to pass through."

Annoyance began to creep into Seren's mind, for which she was grateful. "The type of fungus that ruined our crops is abundant on the banks of the Long Lake right now, as it feeds on carrion. It doesn't survive long out of its ideal environment. We found it in the soil of the seedlings we received from this city. It can be from nowhere else."

The Master's expression hardened and he reached for Lagdar. The smaller man stepped back and hurriedly yelled at him. "I was just trying to increase our profit! I only wanted to please you!"

"We'll have no profit at all with you cheating the elves and attacking citizens of the woodland realm!"

"That wasn't my intent!" Lagdar tried to beseech Seren, "Please! You must know that I meant you no harm!"

For a moment, pity flickered in her chest but then she recalled that he would have denied any wrongdoing and her resolve stiffened. "Your first words to me today were a lie. I cannot trust what you claim your intentions were, not when your actions speak of a contrary truth."

The Master gestured for the three guards to come forward. Seren had forgotten them but now they approached and bound Lagdar before escorting him from the room.

The sudden quiet was deafening. Thranduil flicked his gaze at Seren before settling it on the Master. The fat, gaudily clothed man laughed nervously.

"I promise you, Lagdar had no sanction from me to commit _any_ of these offenses against your people, Lord Thranduil. I hope you can accept my sincerest apologies."

The elvenking's smile was small and bland and his eyes were cold. "It will be difficult to repair the partnership we enjoyed before this occurred."

"Indeed," the Master quickly agreed.

For the first time, Seren thought the man seemed honest. He was desperate to appease the elves and save his trade agreement.

"As Seren mentioned, some of our crops have failed. We find ourselves in need of goods this winter…" Thranduil paused for a long moment. "However, I do not think we can solely rely on the trade from your city. The cost of goods we cannot be sure are safe…"

The Master began to pant. "Before Lagdar's selfish acts, our goods were sound! You can count on that tradition to be restored immediately! We've traded with your kingdom for so long. Let us not throw such a rich history away!"

The Master addressed Seren directly, this time pandering to her as wholeheartedly as he did to the elvenking. "My lady, please accept my greatest apology. Lagdar was out of line. I will find out if he's simply an idiot or if he meant you harm. He should have pursued proper and appropriate channels if courtship was his intention."

Seren tilted her head thoughtfully. "Had he done so, some of this calamity would have been averted."

"Exactly my thoughts! After all, my reputation with all of my trade connections is at stake! If I were to lose this contract…" The Master shuddered. "Well, let's just say my integrity would not survive the questions it would raise. I propose we sit and work out a new trade agreement – one that can benefit us all."

Thranduil made a brief, thoughtful hum. "I would prefer to find a working solution over discontinuing all trade with Esgaroth..." He turned to Seren. "I must insist you join us."

She blinked. Her part in this was done. Tellis, as the goods and trade advisor, was here to handle the details. What reason was there for her to attend? She almost let the question leave her lips but reminded herself that he was the king and she agreed to obey his commands.

She nodded once. "Of course, my lord."

Thranduil managed to keep his surprise from his features and studied her for a moment. He also called on Nuinethir to join the meeting. The Master had his secondary advisor sent for as well as a service of food and wine.

The rest of the elves took up stations around the Master's hall, guarding every entrance and exit. Seren sighed as they made their way to a different room that was smaller and more comfortably appointed. A long table stood in the center, tall windows revealed the gray sky outside and a fire roared in one corner. She wasn't looking forward to a day of negotiating but she had been commanded to stay. Still the sense of displacement remained with her. She couldn't seem to settle fully into her own skin and wondered if she was losing her mind.

Thranduil watched Seren surreptitiously from the corners of his sight, sure that her demeanor seemed different. She had presented a strong case against Lagdar. Though he found her composure admirable, her usual fire seemed absent and the dull look in her eyes concerned him.

The Master, as predicted, was in a panic about saving trade relations but the nature of the accusations made him even more desperate. Indicating that they were expanding their own crops had only added to this. Making their shortages sound dire gave the man the faint glimmer of hope he needed to believe he had leverage. Thranduil was pleased with the outcome.

Once food and drink had been dispensed, everyone settled down for the long discussion. Nuinethir stood guard at the back wall, not far from Seren's chair, his expression an inscrutable mask. Thranduil seated himself across from Seren, Tellis took the chair to the left of her and the Master sat at the head of the table.

"We can begin now," the Master said and sipped at his wine. "My secondary advisor will be here shortly. I doubt he'll miss much."

Thranduil dipped his head minutely to one side in acquiescence. "Then we will start by declaring the existing contract void."

The Master stood, taking a scroll from a rack of many important documents behind the desk in a corner of the room. He held it up for all to see the seal upon it. It was Elvish in design. The elvenking produced his own scroll, this one bearing a seal from Esgaroth. The scrolls were unrolled and the Master unceremoniously ripped off the signatures from the bottom of his scroll. He looked at Thranduil, waiting for him to follow suit.

The king stood and picked up the now ruined contract and its counterpart. "The agreement is to be renegotiated in its entirety, steward."

The Master sputtered. "I thought we could use it as a reference, to guide us –"

Both scrolls were tossed into the fireplace, reduced to ash in seconds.

"The former contract is not to be reproduced in whole or in part," Thranduil said flatly.

Seren felt a shiver dance through her as she watched the king's features harden. He remained standing, staring down the Master. The tall elf was imposing and she hadn't yet seen this side of him. It was enough to banish the veil around her senses and she once again felt connected to herself. She almost gasped aloud as the room brightened, sensation and sound assailing her.

Oblivious to her, the Master licked his lips nervously and forced a smile. "Of course! It's really not necessary. I promised a new contract and a new contract you shall have."

After a few moments of tense silence, Thranduil nodded. "Good."

The doors suddenly opened and a tall, scruffy human strode into the room. His dark hair hung in waves to his broad shoulders and his angular features broke into a grin when he spotted Thranduil.

"King Thranduil," he said with a quick bow at the waist. "It is good to see you are well."

His voice had a raspy, soothing quality and Seren's mind raced to understand why this man seemed familiar, even as she struggled to understand just what had happened to her.

"Likewise," Thranduil replied, his features losing some of their edge.

He offered a discreet greeting of respect: a short, slow nod of his head with a hand over his chest. Seren marveled that the elvenking seemed genuinely glad to see the human.

"Allow me to introduce, Bard; my secondary advisor."

Seren stood as an epiphany clicked into place. She offered the same salutation Thranduil had given. "You are the bowman, slayer of the dragon Smaug," she said, voice tinged with awe.

"Just Bard will do," the man said matter-of-factly. He bowed his head briefly.

Everyone resumed their seats, though Seren's tongue burned with questions.

"This is Seren Aneira Evans," the elvenking supplied.

Bard looked between them. "Word has spread that you have a human ward in your kingdom. I did not believe it. It's rare the rumors are true."

Seren frowned. "Why would such a thing matter to anyone?"

Bard glanced uncertainly from her to Thranduil. "It hasn't been heard of for the Woodland realm to claim the kinship of any human for over a century. It's almost too absurd to be believed. Yet, here you are. I must admit I'm curious as to how such a thing occurred."

Seren inhaled slowly, schooling her expression. She avoided sight of the Master, who sat with rapt attention on his features. When she looked in Thranduil's direction, her stomach clenched. His hooded gaze was trained intently on her, waiting curiously. They hadn't discussed a detailed background for her. The truth was too far-fetched to be believed and she wouldn't risk giving the Master a reason to doubt their earlier exchange. She dug into her mind for information she could use from her lessons with Varis, though she had to focus as the information seemed unusually distant.

"I lost the last of my family in a battle with orcs. King Thranduil was kind enough to offer me a home after my brother fell defending him. I've lived among the elves ever since. Originally, I came from a small village in the peaks of the Blue Mountains."

Bard frowned. "You're quite some distance from home."

Seren nodded. "My brother hoped to improve our fortunes in Rohan. There was an offer of work from every large city posted at the pub back home."

Bard nodded in understanding and sat back in his chair. "The battle at the Lonely Mountain set many kings and lords on edge."

"Indeed," Seren agreed. "In our travels, we wandered into the woods and ran into a group of elves, led by Legolas, who had been tracking orcs."

Bard chuckled. "I can imagine that didn't go well."

Seren smiled, remembering having Thranduil's sword pointed at her when they first met. "They certainly found our presence suspicious. Soon after, the band of orcs appeared and it was in our best interest to help fight them off."

"We were due to rendezvous with my son," Thranduil added suddenly, "and arrived in time to fend off the second wave. I should think you all would have perished had we not diverted from our return journey from Erebor."

Seren bowed her head. "Of course, my lord. Had my brother lived, I know he would have offered his service to you to repay the debt."

Despite the ruse they were playing at, there was much truth in it and she spoke genuinely of Taliesin. If he were stranded here with her, he would have happily offered to serve the king as thanks for saving them. It occurred to her only now that she, Tal and Legolas would have been struck down if they had been alone. Thranduil acknowledged this with a simple nod, though she hoped he truly understood.

Bard was silent for a moment and then offered her a sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry for the loss of your brother."

Seren tilted her head. "Thank you."

Thranduil watched, catching her gaze and smiling faintly with approval. The Master cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back the matter at hand.

"Now that our curiosity has been satisfied – and I can't tell you how rampant and ridiculous the rumors about the human living with the elves have been, thus making this clarification most welcome – shall we begin?" 


	20. Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A stroll in the woods illuminates a few truths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was part of chapter 19 but I had soooo much filler of the negotiations that the chapter was a very long bore. I just couldn't make humiliating the Master all that entertaining. But since this was the intended ending, I cut out the crap in the middle and just made this its own chapter. I hope you all enjoy it! Thanks for reading!

Thranduil stepped slowly into a clearing, bathed in moonlight. Some distance behind him the camp bustled with activity preparing the evening meal. Before him, a boulder reaching as high as his chin stood in the new snow that had fallen earlier in the day. On top of it sat Seren.

She was sketching in her book under the stars. Her loose hair hid half of her profile from view and it shifted with the soft luminance of the night sky as she worked. She was utterly oblivious to him.

He thought of the drawing she'd left him. It was improper for her to have given him a gift and equally improper for him to accept. He'd placed the smiling countenance of his son in a small leather scroll sheath, intent on returning it. Once or twice he had nearly succeeded but his reluctance proved stronger. He decided to graciously accept it and so it remained, tucked away in his robes, though he wouldn't tell her as much.

"You have done well these past two days," Thranduil said by way of greeting.

Seren looked up and closed her book. "Thank you."

He took several steps past her, his velvet burgundy robe trailing in the snow behind him, and gazed up at the stars. "I thought your presence might help keep the Master focused on what mattered most. He was… easier to bargain with this time."

Seren hummed thoughtfully. "He was rather desperate to save trade relations with your people."

" _Our_ people, Seren," Thranduil reminded her. The circlet on his brow glinted in the moonlight as he turned around, gaze narrowed on her. "You agreed to be a citizen of my kingdom. Yesterday we brought accusations against a citizen of another people on your behalf. The elves of the Greenwood are your people, not charitable hosts."

Though she had accepted that she was staying with the elves, she still sometimes felt like a guest when dealing with the elvenking. By her attendance at the negotiations these past two days, she declared her allegiance to all of Middle Earth. She couldn't pick and choose when she regarded the elves as kin.

She swallowed. "Of course. _Our_ people…"

Thranduil stepped closer, blue eyes thoughtful. "You have seemed unlike yourself since we arrived here."

Seren wet suddenly dry lips and dragged in a breath. "If we're going to _talk_ , I really shouldn't remain up here. I need to stretch my legs anyway."

"Then if I may?" The king held out a hand to her and stepped sideways.

Seren's mind went still and she took his hand in hers. The contact was distractingly warm. Scooting forward, she prepared to hop down but the hand she held slipped from her grasp. Instead, the warm strength from both of Thranduil's hands settled around her waist, helping her slide from her perch. Her hands grasped his arms instinctively for balance and she could feel the tension in them, flowing hot under velvet and satin layers. This close, his faint spice and woods scent permeated the air and heat flooded Seren's belly. Her limbs quivered and she breathed slowly to steady her nerves, hoping Thranduil wouldn't notice.

It had been a simple offer of courtesy at the time. Yet a keen urge to pull her close surprised him when her weight settled into his arms. The world around him seemed to slow and the rich warm fragrance of her filled his senses. It took more effort to resist embracing her than he expected and more still to release her.

She stumbled as her feet touched the ground. He steadied her and she giggled to mask her case of nerves.

"I suppose I was sitting longer than I thought. Thank you, my lord."

Thranduil stepped back with a curt nod and drew a shaky breath. Her use of proper salutations had passed without catching his attention recently but it bothered him now. It sounded wrong to his ears. He frowned in thought. Again he detected the awkward pause and wondered if it was telling that now she faltered.

He clasped his hands behind his back; beginning a leisurely stroll and she fell into step beside him. They passed many trees, marring the snow with their feet and the stone she left was far behind them by the time the king spoke.

"The restraint you have shown here is admirable. There were moments I was certain you would object; vocally and immediately…"

An impish smile pursed Seren's lips. She knew to what he was referring. Thrice she had held her tongue despite her desire to do otherwise. Thrice she had watched him struggle not to show his surprise. "If it was your command, objecting was pointless."

Thranduil glanced at her as they stepped around a tree. "I think we are both aware you had to exercise a level of self-control to which you are unaccustomed."

"Hmm, I do not deny that. At times my errant mouth nearly prevailed. Ultimately it didn't."

Amusement flickered over the elvenking's features. "I would be remiss to let such momentous occasions pass without remark."

Suddenly, poking him in the ribs held great appeal but Seren resisted. "I assure you, I wouldn't have taken offense if you failed to note it."

For a moment, Thranduil seemed more interested in the ground and Seren was certain she heard the faintest laugh escape him. The flush that warmed her made the air seem suddenly colder and the heat of him to her left that much more distinct. She tugged her cloak closer.

She wished she could simply not feel drawn to him. This was the sort of moment she had sworn to avoid, yet here she was. She looked away and pushed her thoughts in a more productive direction.

"I still don't agree that I should be present during the assessments."

That development had been unexpected. As part of the new contract, terms for having an elvish envoy visit Esgaroth from time to time to inspect their handling of goods was agreed upon; so long as the elvish seal applied to all goods and not just their own. The king had decided Seren would be part of this effort.

"It is a temporary provision," Thranduil said. "A human face might ease the proceedings. I suspect your gift with things that grow will also be useful."

"So long as that gift is not discovered?"

"Of course."

Seren sighed heavily.

Thranduil couldn't help the smirk at her displeasure, pleased she hadn't formally protested. Thus far she was making the effort she swore she would. "As I said, I expected an adamant refusal from you."

The urge to roll her eyes was strong. "I do see the merit in it, despite my personal feelings. We all have our responsibilities and can't always do as we like. I did promise I would try…"

"So you did," Thranduil said.

Again silence fell as they walked and neither rushed to fill it. Keeping to the forest, their journey took them around their group of tents. They were nearly to the opposite side of their clearing when Thranduil again broached the topic that most concerned him.

"Are you well, Seren? There is still much about what you are that is unclear. If there are any changes, I need to know."

She paused. "I don't know. I think I simply had a moment for the past three months to catch up with me. When I saw those bones… the skeleton of Smaug…"

They passed through a shaft of moonlight and she stopped to peer up at the stars. A faraway look stole over her features. Thranduil watched and patiently waited.

"Since I arrived here, I've had to accept many things as true; things that, on Earth, are too fantastical to believed. Being confronted with such a reality as those I thought to be a fairy tale, left me to wonder if I was going mad."

She turned her mind back to that moment on the lakeshore. "I wondered if I might have preferred it. I saw these past months all over again – Legolas, Taliesin…it was all the same. Except… for the first time, I could see you. Or more accurately, I could _remember_ you. After the moment passed, I felt as though I wasn't quite inside my own body and it took a while to shake the desire to sleep."

Thranduil took a step past her, beginning to circle as was his habit. "Could you not recall me in your memory before?"

Seren turned in place to follow him and shook her head. "Not clearly. I look to my memories and see the people in them. It is how I'm able to draw without a subject in front of me. I could clearly picture your every detail – your clothes, your crown – and I could recall your words. By recalling my own reaction, I could remember whether you were curious or angry… but I could not recall your face. It was as if there were two images of you, neither very clear and both obscuring the other."

Anguish ghosted over Seren's features as an image of Thranduil's scars appeared in her mind, unbidden. "That morning, seeing Smaug's remains, I finally saw you in my memories."

Thranduil paused in his circular wandering, staring warily at her from the side. "And what image did you see?" he asked softly.

Seren looked down at her book and hesitantly raised it out to him.

A feeling of dread churned in Thranduil's chest. That was what she had been drawing tonight. She looked up at him, questioningly. He stepped forward, hands coming up to take the volume from her. His breath came shallowly as the book settled into his hands and he could feel Seren's pulse pounding through her fingertips where they touched.

"You were just as you are now…" She reached for the ribbon she kept between the pages and opened the book. "But I also saw this."

Thranduil looked at the image and his heart lurched in dismay at the sight. It wasn't a surprise, really but still it rocked him to see his injured face staring back at him. The page to the left bore an unblemished rendering of him. Displayed to the right was the tear in his cheek where muscle was exposed, his teeth showing through in a macabre grin. The once ruined eye, stared sightlessly at him. Even the damage to his neck was depicted, disappearing off the edge of the paper. A tremble started in his hands and he hurriedly slammed the book closed.

"Dragon's fire…" he whispered. "You came perilously close to the corpse of Smaug. There is a reason it hasn't been disposed of properly."

Seren closed her eyes, feeling like an idiot. "Magic." When she opened them, her sketchbook was held out to her.

"Dragon magic," Thranduil confirmed. "It can linger long after a dragon dies. Wounds can echo long after they have healed. The injuries inflicted by a dragon scar more than just flesh."

Seren inhaled sharply. "The _fea…_ "

"Yes."

"Can others perceive it?"

"It is not truly there. I can produce a reflection of the damage within, if I wish." He paused thoughtfully and surprised himself with his next words. "Were you to ask it of me; I would show you."

Her eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"Because you have already seen it." It was folly, this risk he was taking; but something else was driving him. He was either unwilling or unable to keep it from her entirely or she wouldn't have perceived it at all.

Seren nodded stiffly. "Show me."

Thranduil tilted his head a little to the side in acquiescence and a moment later, his features twisted in pain. The left side of his face distorted and red gashes bloomed on the smooth skin, quickly spreading over the expanse of cheek and jaw until most of the flesh was gone.

Seren gasped, her eyes widening as the gaping wound continued to grow. It rose until the piercing blue of Thranduil's eye was dimmed to a cloudy white orb. Instinctively, she wanted to step back but squashed the impulse and made herself look. The exposed muscle quivered and Thranduil labored to breathe. Tension shook his torso and Seren realized the cause.

The realization came with a pressure in her head. "It hurts…"

"Yes…" It was a hollow half whisper.

Guilt flooded her and Seren grimaced, wishing she could take this moment back. "Then stop." She almost reached for him but refrained and chided herself.

The mirage didn't fade and she worriedly glanced down his torso, dreading what she would find. The shimmering black tunic was sinking against holes appearing in the body underneath, remembered into existence. The fabric hung on a now near-skeletal shoulder.

"Thranduil stop."

He didn't seem to register her words and the pressure in her skull became a piercing agony. Her hands reached out for him of their own accord. The instant they settled on him, light filled her mind. She could see nothing, hear nothing, and feel nothing save for the void sucking at her very soul. Instinctively she resisted and the light pushed against it, shoving it away.

The night abruptly surrounded them once more. Thranduil leaned heavily on her, chest heaving as he breathed and he was once again whole.

"Thank you, Seren." He tried to straighten from her and stumbled into a tree, holding himself there. The cold wood helped to soothe his nerves.

Though she was exhausted and shaking, Seren circled around him to glare. "You didn't have to go so far! Was there something you had to prove?"

When he didn't answer, her ire rose. "Thranduil!"

Finally he shook his head. "I do not know… I have never been unable to stop it before." He looked as confused as he sounded.

"You don't know?" Seren's cross features went slack.

"Did you know why… you had to see the stars… the night you died?"

"No… I just… had to. I don't know why."

His blue eyes rose to meet hers and he inhaled deeply as he straightened. He trembled with the effort but he remained upright this time.

"You weren't simply burned," Seren said.

"No."

He didn't elaborate but she didn't need him to. "Here I thought, because you're an elf you couldn't possibly know what it was like to die and live again. You could have just told me rather than do something so foolish!"

The king scowled at her in a sort of wonder. "You are… _angry_ with me…"

"Of course I'm angry."

"The wound cannot kill me again."

"It certainly didn't seem that way to me."

He squared his shoulders and lifted his chin, schooling his features into a mask of cool condescension. "It is not your place to be concerned."

"Not my place? I consider you a friend."

Thranduil scoffed. The ridiculousness of such audacity was a more familiar sensation and he welcomed it. "We are not friends."

"Maybe not in your estimation," Seren replied with calm she hadn't expected to feel in the face of his words. His statement was a likely response. "I consider you a friend, regardless. Anyone who is not an enemy is a friend – some more than others."

"A king has no need of friends – only loyalty," he said smoothly.

"You are more than a king, lord Thranduil."

"Really?" Suddenly unable to remain still, he stepped in an arc around her. "What else am I then?"

The words were dangerously soft but Seren refused to listen to the caution they advised. She suppressed the nerves and agitation he was trying to stir and breathed for a moment.

"To begin with… You've fought dragons. Does the Last Alliance of Men ring a bell? You know what it is to lose a home. Then there's Legolas… You raised him alone."

Here she paused and decided against mentioning the reason for that. "You broke my book to keep it open to a depiction of him. You're far more sentimental than you'd like others to believe."

"Seren…"

"Let's not forget the game I made – you're someone who _despises_ not knowing. You're someone who likes sweet rolls and is known in one particular kitchen for purloining two before supper every night. Shall I go on?"

"You made your point." He wanted to be angry at her but could summon no more than annoyance that she was flouting decorum. "All of that may be true but it does not give you liberty to forget who you are addressing."

"I haven't forgotten," she said softly. "You are many things. One of them just happens to be a king. I couldn't trust anyone who defined themselves solely by their position of power."

Thranduil's eyes widened. " _Do_ I have your trust?"

A slow smile spread over her features. "You do."

Thranduil searched her expression for any hint of subterfuge for several long moments. Finding none, he leaned away. The reply he had on his tongue, however, was forestalled by a sudden rustle in the brush.

Caireann was running into the trees toward them with obvious urgency.

"My lord, Thranduil!" she called out. "Nuinethir and Eleros have not returned!"

"Returned?" Seren half jogged ahead to intercept her friend.

Thranduil was right behind her, worriedly scanning the camp, noting several elves already in motion. "I assigned them to escort Bard back to the city after he came to visit."

Seren looked into the distance through the trees, trying to catch a glimpse of the lights of Esgaroth but they were quite a distance from the city of men.

"We have to go to Laketown," Caireann insisted.

"I intend to," Thranduil said flatly and took off at a brisk pace. He strode into his tent and removed the cloak from his shoulders.

Seren watched from an opening as he began taking his armor off its stands. "What can I do?"

Caireann gently laid a hand on her shoulder. "Watch… and wait." The Warrior hurried away then and set herself to the task of slipping on her leathers.

It took little time for a search party to be assembled. After that, Thranduil appointed guards to escort him back to Esgaroth, leaving ten of their original number at the camp with Seren. After giving orders for patrols and when to expect his return, Thranduil mounted his white mare and headed for the path that led into the forest. He halted when he came to where Seren stood.

"Be ready to leave at a moment's notice. If we have not returned by dawn, make all haste back to our kingdom."

She swallowed. "Of course, my lord."

She stepped back and his group fell into formation around him. The lead guardsman kicked his mount into a gallop and the rest followed. Seren watched them go until they were out of sight.

When she turned back toward the camp, Tellis was standing a few paces behind her. "Should the need to leave arise, we must be ready. There are preparations to make."

Seren gestured toward the tents. "Then we had better start."


	21. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble is afoot and nothing is what it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! As you may or may not know, I don't hold myself strictly to the books or films when writing. I pretty much use whatever works for what I'm trying to do. First and foremost, I hope to tell a good story. I hope you like this chapter. There'll be more soon - probably this weekend. So, enjoy! And thanks again!

**Lost and Found  
**

Thranduil pushed his mount as hard as he was able, staring ahead as the light of Esgaroth drew closer. Around him, eight of his guards rode in perfect sync, Caireann to his right. He hoped to encounter Nuinethir and Eleros before reaching the town but the expanse ahead was devoid of all but his escort.

He thought of the camp and worry swelled within him. They had his commands. It would have to be enough.

His thoughts turned to Seren. He knew she would have preferred to go after Nuinethir as well. She wasn't a warrior, however and it was possible there would be conflict. It was better to keep her away from such danger, though he was torn between prudence and a desire to ensure it himself. That he _needed_ to know she was safe was an unexpected realization.

He recalled how worried she'd been for him just earlier this night.

" _Anyone who is not an enemy is a friend…"_ She had been worried for him, distressed and angry. It was strange to have anyone openly show concern for him and he wondered about it as he rode.

Unbidden, the memory of collapsing onto her when her touch banished the reflection flashed in his thoughts. For a moment, the ragged edges of his wounds had felt less raw. It had been so jarring he recoiled and the mere memory of it deeply unsettled him. He inhaled against the stirring pressure in his chest and focused his attention back to the path ahead.

The city on the lake was closer now and he pressed himself down onto the mare's neck, urging her pace higher still. The last few dozen yards passed in a blur and in moments they were dismounting at the gate.

"The hour is late, King Thranduil," one of the human guards declared. "No business is to be conducted until morning."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes, his stride not slowing. His guards fell into step beside and behind him and the humans swallowed nervously upon seeing the elven lord's expression.

"Two of my people have failed to return. The Master _will_ speak with me now."

He didn't wait for acknowledgement and was beyond the men before they could respond. Instead they turned and followed, the quiet smaller one clanking his boots loudly on the wood in his hurry to keep up. As they drew near the town proper, the previous speaker shouted to a group of guards at a watch station.

"Go tell the Master to expect a visit from the elvenking!"

Immediate activity kicked up noise as the men hurried to stand at attention and two took off at a dead run to warn the Master. Heads popped out of windows and open doors to see what was going on.

Thranduil didn't care. Subtlety was not required. He and his guards arrived at the town hall's steps but at the top he paused and gazed around. Something seemed out of place. Some incorrect detail he couldn't name was hovering in his mind. His eyes didn't see anything extraordinary, however.

"Remain out here," he instructed Caireann and another, an archer named Laseviir. "Be vigilant."

They nodded and looked around curiously, not seeing anything that would have made the king uneasy. That made it all the more ominous.

Satisfied he could do no more and aware he couldn't linger, he went inside.

The hall was dimly lit and the air felt heavy as he entered. The two guards that had gone in stood still by the entrance, waiting for them to pass.

"Where is the Master?" Thranduil asked the one who'd spoken before.

"He should be down momentarily, my lord."

Thranduil sighed deeply. "Of course… How typical of him."

The guard said nothing to that and the elvenking wandered further inside.

He cast uneasy glances at the six of his remaining guard, telling them wordlessly to survey their surroundings and to be wary. Every blade was drawn and they fanned out to cover every nearby corner of the room.

After several moments passed in silence without a sign of the Master, they made their way to the deep end of the main hall. The shadows around the chair were almost black as pitch and devoid of any torchlight.

The door to the elves' left stood open and Thranduil strode over to it. The corridor beyond wasn't lit at all, save for moonlight streaming in through high windows. The long carpet smelled damp as if rain soaked traffic had passed over it recently and a door at the rear end was open.

The tension in his shoulders began to tighten and Thranduil gestured for his kin to follow him out of the building. When they neared the open doorway to the same little room the Master held their negotiations in, a form lounging in the shadows made them stop.

Thranduil went still. When he took in the sight inside, his gut clenched and the tension between his shoulder blades ratcheted into knots.

He took a slow step barely within the room and glared at an unfamiliar face.

"We've been expecting you, king of the woodland realm," the man said.

Behind him, Thranduil's guards stiffened and raised their weapons higher. He could tell by how their stance shifted that someone else was out in the corridor behind them – probably the guards as he heard the front door in the main hall close with a soft thud.

The elvenking cast a glance at the figures he knew. To his left, Lagdar stood looking smug. To the right another stranger held onto Nuinethir by the hair and pressed a dagger's tip gently to the underside of the runner's jaw. He appeared groggy and sluggish and leaned almost entirely on the arms that held him, his own hands lashed together behind his back.

Eleros was similarly bound, lying on the floor in front of the smoldering fireplace. He was utterly still but he drew breath. There were two other men lining the wall, watching the scene.

Finally Thranduil rolled his gaze back to the speaker, assessing him with narrowed eyes. The man was tall and athletic, though a little leaner than the elvenking. He and the others wore telltale dark leathers common among the eastern peoples and his long black hair reflected the moon's blue glow with mirror-like quality. His skin was a colorless pale shade but not sickly. In the moonlight, a subtle iridescence whispered over his features and his eyes shone far too pale. As Thranduil stepped further in, he noted the delicate point of his ears.

"And who are you, _peredhil_ son of Rhun?"

The man smiled slowly. "Perceptive as they say, I see. I am Tolvaris."

Thranduil tilted his head, still staring the man down with piercing eyes. "That name is unfamiliar to me."

"Many wars have been waged over the ages. Even elves sometimes choose capture over death. I hail from an entire lineage the Eldar forgot."

Thranduil ignored the implied accusation and raised a brow. "It is not possible for any elf to beget a child by force."

"Come now, king Thranduil; tsk-tsk-tsk," Tolvaris said smoothly. "Force is unnecessary, given enough time."

It was unfortunately true that, although it took far longer than it did for men, elves could succumb to corruption so Thranduil dismissed the rest of his curiosity. "What is your purpose here?"

"I gave Lagdar a task," Tolvaris said with a note of annoyance directed at the human. "He failed. My compliments to your healer."

Thranduil's jaw clenched as several things became plain at once. "The attempt on Seren's life… Why?"

"I have my orders. We were content to keep to our usual efforts but she ruined those endeavors."

"Your endeavors are now beyond salvaging," Thranduil pointed out. "There is nothing you will gain by killing her."

Tolvaris turned away slowly and stared out of the window. "I do not question the one I serve." He gestured and the men standing against the wall abruptly moved. A pair of low whistles sounded and the elves behind Thranduil grunted, grabbing at their necks.

The elvenking turned in time to see them slump. Those still in the corridor were similarly reaching for their skin and pulled a barb free only to drop them as they began to sway.

"Do not worry, king Thranduil. They merely sleep," Tolvaris said as he came to stand next to him. "Once Seren is dead, we will be gone."

Thranduil stared in shock at his fallen kin. His mind furiously recounted several facts: The humans who had placed the Lothrim meant to kill Seren were still in his dungeons; a dragon was rotting in the lake and these Easterlings were here in a secretive manner rather than the military force usually expected of the chieftains who served Sauron.

"You are a fool," he said to Tolvaris.

The half-elf said nothing to that and raised a blowpipe. The sting in Thranduil's neck was immediate and darkness soon followed.

* * *

Seren stood at the entrance to the elves' clearing, looking down the path that disappeared into the trees. Now that the camp was as ready as it could be, she had nothing to do but wait. Just two hours ago, she had been furious with Thranduil. Now she only wanted to see him and her friends return alive and unscathed. The heavy feeling in her chest spoke of that being unlikely. So far the three search groups had returned once, none with any news.

Tellis strode up beside her and stared into the direction of Esgaroth. "Our people are well suited to handle themselves. You should get some rest, should we indeed need to leave at dawn."

Seren continued to watch the forest ahead but acknowledged him with a nod. "We would only need to leave if they do not return. They would only fail to return if trouble is afoot; trouble they couldn't manage."

The tan elf tilted his head a little in allowance of that. "All the more reason we should do all we can to be ready and that means you should rest."

Seren narrowed her gaze at the gloom of the woods. They were foreboding, but her sense of urgency was rapidly chasing away her trepidation about the dark. Nuinethir and Eleros would have returned if they could have. It was unlike them to tarry. That Thranduil hadn't rendezvoused with them and returned by now was worrisome still. Something had kept the quickstriders. Whatever it was might also detain Thranduil and his escort, Caireann among them. The more she thought about it, the more her dread grew.

"The night feels too restless… I'm going." Abruptly she turned and went to her pack. She was kneeling; gathering fruit, bread and water skins into a satchel when Tellis rejoined her.

"You know the king's orders…"

"If all is well, I will gladly accept whatever remonstration I'm due. I'm not asking you to wait for me."

Tellis sighed, wrestling with his thoughts. Finally he retorted, " _You_ may not have…"

Seren's attention was immediately piqued and she met the male elf's grey-brown eyes. Slowly, she stood, her features warring between anger and amusement. "Did he tell you to babysit me?"

Tellis frowned at the unusual term. "He bade me to watch out for you. You are unfamiliar to these woods and, being human, you need more rest than elves. I was to ensure your needs were not neglected."

Seren huffed wryly. "That's Thr… the king's way of telling you to babysit me."

"He would not want you to disobey him in this," Tellis implored.

Seren gazed at him pityingly. She knew the tall, lean elf didn't much care for her, but he had his orders and would follow them and she was making that impossible.

"I'm sorry, Tellis; but I must go. I cannot help feeling I have to. Something's very wrong. I only plan to sneak around the city a bit to see if nothing is amiss and come directly back."

The advisor's eyebrows rose and for a moment he studied her critically. Finally, he nodded and turned away but a moment later, he dropped a pouch of dried meat at her feet and handed her a dagger.

"Since you will do this regardless of my heed; the least I can do is see that you have means to defend yourself," he said stiffly; arms crossed behind his back.

"Thank you." She stuffed the jerky into her pack and tied the blade around her waist.

"If I return as if I have demons on my back…"

"We will be ready."

She nodded and crossed the clearing, gathering her courage as the forest loomed ahead.

Just before she reached the path, Tellis called out to her. She half turned back to him, almost impatiently.

"Be safe, Seren."

She nodded, though she was obviously surprised by the platitude. "And you."

Then she was gone.

* * *

Bard crouched in the shadows between buildings, watching the town hall. After he escaped the ambush in the street, he circled back in time to see his elven escort dragged inside through a service entrance.

He paused to recall Nuinethir diving madly to slash an arrow from the air that had been meant for him, only to be hit with a dart that rendered him unconscious. Eleros yelled at him to flee, going down a moment later. There was nothing he could do against four men with poison darts so he ran. He'd managed to slip into a barrel and hid until the men who gave chase had given up.

Now king Thranduil and his guard were in there and had yet to return. The Master and his guards must surely be either dead or incapacitated.

The bowman stepped out to the street and made every appearance of a casual passerby. Once to the front, he ducked into the shadow of a porch and spotted Caireann. He whistled softly.

Her eyes widened in alarm at the sight of him and she hurried forward, crossing the distance of the court on one side.

"How can you be here?" She demanded as soon as she joined him. "The king went inside to speak with the Master about your disappearance. Where are Nuinethir and Eleros?"

Bard held up a hand, beseeching her to let him speak. "They saved me from the men who attacked us but they were hit with some kind of poison and taken into the hall. Whoever is doing this is inside."

The warrior's features pinched with a horrified scowl. "But the king is in there!"

"Then he's a captive now too," Bard said.

The sound of the great doors opening drew their attention. Laseviir hurried to hide in the deep shadows next to the steps and stared wide-eyed at Caireann.

Two dozen men in blackened leather armor filed out. Water dripped freely from their forms as they marched. They all had a sword in hand and Bard spied a blowpipe hanging around their necks.

"They must have come from the water," he mused. "Why bother sedating anyone?"

Caireann whispered angrily. "Easterlings take every opportunity to add fresh blood to their slave labor trade."

The two columns of men thundered past their hiding place and continued to the boardwalk that led out of town.

Caireann scowled. "Where are the city watchmen?"

The intruders stomped uncontested to the end of the boardwalk and turned south.

"They're heading to our camp!" Caireann rushed down the steps of the porch to watch them go. Laseviir hurried up to them, staring at the retreating men.

"There's nothing we can do," Bard said as he joined them.

Caireann refused to listen. "Is there a boat at the south end of the city? If I can reach the woods, I can rendezvous with our search groups – meet the Easterlings in greater numbers."

"Of course," Bard said. He hurried to a specific street and gazed down it for signs of adversaries. "This way!"

* * *

Seren ran through the trees, guided only by the moon. It shone high over her, lighting stones and other obstacles in her way. She started at a jog and was now running full tilt but she could run faster still if she sprinted. Her blood flowed hot in her veins and she longed to put her head down and let go but held back.

The terrain was unfamiliar to her. Until her body's reflexes felt ready, running would have to be good enough. She cursed as the path wended around a large tree and sloped sharply down. A sudden leap to the area where it flattened kept her from tripping on a tree root but her momentum was so great, she had to roll head over feet once and recover her stride.

Adrenaline flushed her and it sharpened her senses. Deciding no time was better than now; she bent forward, pushing off from her feet harder. Her torso twisted side-to-side ever so slightly as she moved and her arms sliced the through the air in front of her.

Faster she ran; the forest began to seem like a never ending blur. Tension built in her muscles and she forced herself to relax into it, her limbs becoming fluid. She had her pace and settled into the breakneck speed, worried less about generating power instead of maintenance. Her breathing fell into a rhythm, her lungs expanding with an inhale at the apex of her torso's movements instead of fighting to breathe. Everything fell into a cadence and she was better able to pay attention to the land as it passed beneath her feet.

Rocks and roots she hopped over without missing a beat. Trees and ruts she darted around, bounding from one side to the other. She grinned. It had been a while since she had run so freely. The cold winter night air seemed a distant concern as her limbs were suffused with warmth. Supple and languid, they carried her along and her wool cloak flew through the air behind her.

The night came alive, weighing heavy and cool over her awareness. Though her thoughts still centered on her missing friends, all worry seemed to fade away as she felt a hum rise around her, pressing against her mind.

Another tree was revealed as she rounded a bend. It stood from the ground at an angle and rather than go around it, she chose to hop over the part of the base that stood in her path. She leapt, placing her hand on the trunk and images of the forest flashed in her mind. Briefly, she felt that the tree knew she was there. Briefly, the forest floor seemed to shine with the light of Arda from all the interconnected plants. In soothing tones of pale teal, the essence of the forest flared bright in her thoughts and everything that grew glowed like stars.

Her momentum broke her contact with the leaning pine and the disorientation broke her rhythm. Her arms flailed for something to grab onto as her body pitched forward and her stomach lurched at the anticipated impact. But it never came. A soft chorus of crackles and the whisper of leaves filled her ears. Gentle pressure wrapped around her torso and filled her grasping hand, halting her fall and taking her momentum in a soft bounce.

She looked down. A mossy vine encircled her, holding her in mid-fall and her hand gripped another soft vine. She put her weight back onto her feet and was gently released. The vine retreated to hang once more among its brethren from the canopy overhead.

Seren stepped back, eyes round as she waited for whatever would come next.

"Who are you?" Seren licked her lips. "What are you?"

She studied the vine but nothing else happened. She looked at her left hand. There were dirt smudges and a faint green smear where she had crushed some of the leaves. The hum was still in her head and she reached out to the tree. As before when she touched it, an awareness of the forest sprang into her thoughts. Around her, she could see the forest as it was and the thinning tree line showed the open plains beyond. Every dormant blade of grass glowed under the snow. The lines of every tree softly pulsed with light.

On a whim, she moved to another tree and the vision returned. A memory from her earlier days in Middle Earth echoed to her and she heard Thranduil's cultured tones.

" _The essence I believe you harbor, is of one whose purview was the health and protection of Laurelin and Telperion, from an order unto which it fell to heal the land and restore the Trees. They possessed great communion with all that grows."_

Abruptly she let go and stared, bewildered at the forest. She heaved great swallows of air. The urge to touch the trees returned and she almost reached out but stopped her hand mid-air and clenched her fist. There wasn't time for this. She shook her head to clear it and sprinted to the forest's edge and paused.

Esgaroth was ahead in the distance but a sense of warning kept her from continuing her speed. The lake's embankment offered the only possibility for cover. It sloped down to the water, a testament to its recession. At least she could stay down and out of sight.

She stepped as near to the lapping surface as she dared and made her way forward, mindful not to slip on moss covered stones. She needed only to make it as far as the southernmost pier. And then she had to cross a few yards of water.

_Right… One thing at a time, Seren…_

* * *

"I found one of your guards." Laseviir pointed to a pair of barrels resting against the front of a store. Behind them, an Esgaroth watchman sat slumped on the deck.

They were in the market, not far from the southern pier and the night was ominously quiet. The further they went, the less activity there was. No guard patrols thumped the wooden streets and no beggars were pleading to share the fires of the watch to warm their hands.

Bard bent down and pulled a white quill-like barb from the man's neck. He was still warm and breathing evenly.

"He's unconscious, but alive," he said and held up the dart for Caireann to inspect.

"The others must be similarly disposed," she said. "Whatever this substance is, even our kin are susceptible to it. I would not expect your people to wake any time soon."

Bard straightened. "This way. The boat is just a little further."

The elves followed him out of the market and to the small docks where dinghies bobbed in the water.

"Over here!" Bard directed them to a long boat. Inside was a seat behind a set of pedals. "It's a new design the dwarves sold us. There are paddles under the water that propel you forward or backward. It generates far less noise than oars. There's a rudder for steering." He gestured at a long polished handle the sat to the right of the seat.

Caireann eyed the contraption, puzzlement plain on her features. "It'll do if it will take us to the southern bank of the lake."

"It will." Bard gestured for them to get in and instructed Caireann on how the pedals worked. He untied the rope holding the boat in place, bidding the elves farewell before shoving it off from the pier and watching as the boat picked up speed and pointed south.

He waved briefly, wondering for a moment if he should have gone with them. "Good luck, woodland kin." After a deep breath, he turned away and headed back into town to see what could be done about the Master, Thranduil and the elves that had disappeared inside the town hall.


	22. Follow the Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some dragon knowledge shared, a cutthroat edition of hide-and-seek and Bard proves himself helpful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So um.... this chapter kind of wrote itself... but I think it was better than what I had planned. Thanks for being patient with me. As always, I'm already working on the next installment. I wish I could update more frequently but I have so little time! =D So enjoy this chapter, and stay tuned!

The night sky hung low and heavy with stars twinkling against the cobalt blue backdrop. Their comfort seemed rather distant to Seren now. A frozen breeze drifted past and Seren shook. Her tunic's hem was wet as were her lower legs. She'd almost given up on getting to the dock when she found an errant barrel to hold her, though it leaked quite a bit. Her hands still ached from paddling in the cold water and she was glad her explorations hadn't ended there. Still, she wished to be dry and warm more than anything at the moment.

Now on the deck of the pier, she peeked over the barrels she was hiding behind, watching for movement she might need to avoid. It was too dark and unnaturally silent. The water slapped noisily against the supports of Esgaroth.

Ahead of her, the trade market loomed; a dark corridor with even darker windows. Her nerves began to buzz under her skin. She gazed around for another presence but saw no one.

She rolled her shoulders and shook off the feeling of being watched and slipped into the shadows of a shop. The corridor ahead was empty and she took off at a run, careful to control her footfalls so they made the least noise possible.

She'd just reached a corner and had her first glimpse of her destination, the town hall building, when a figure rushed at her from the right. Hands clamped around her mouth and ribs as she was pulled into a shop's porch.

Panic flashed in her belly but fizzled when she turned to face Bard. Her eyes went wide and she snapped her mouth closed under his palm.

He let her go and leaned away as much as the small space allowed.

"What are you doing here?" he whispered hoarsely.

Seren raised her chin. "Me?! What about you? You, Nuinethir and Eleros went missing! King Thranduil returned to Esgaroth to find out what happened to you."

"I know," Bard drawled. "Caireann and Laseviir just left to return to your camp."

Seren blinked. "What?"

Bard's gaze intensified as he recounted the night's events. "We were attacked by Easterlings. Nuinethir and Eleros were taken but not before they gave me a chance to escape. Not long ago, two dozen men left town hall to mount another attack in the woods. Caireann hopes to gather the search groups to meet them. I just saw her off in a long boat when I spotted you dodging around the market."

Seren rifled through her thoughts furiously. She didn't know much about Easterlings – only that they were a nation of different tribes of men who served Sauron.

"Why are Easterlings in Esgaroth? Where is the king now?"

"I don't know why they're here," Bard said. "There aren't too many patrolling the city but there's no telling the number inside town hall. That's where they're holding the rest of your people, King Thranduil included. The Master must also be a captive and our city watchmen have all been rendered unconscious."

Seren scanned the street, seeing no sign of the intruders. "We have to do something!"

"I'm open to suggestions," Bard said, shaking his head in frustration.

"We need to get closer. Find out more about what's going on. Is there a way into town hall we can use without being seen?"

Bard nodded. "There's a side entrance, though it may be guarded. If we could slip inside and get a glimpse of their numbers and arms; provided we can rouse our people, we can better mount a defense."

Seren chewed on the idea for a moment. They would need to return to the woods and regroup – provided the attack there was thwarted – but it wouldn't do to lead them into this if their complement wouldn't be enough. They needed to know what was going on in the big building.

"Lead the way," she said and gestured.

Bard looked out into the street again and spotted the patrolling intruder. He waited for him to pass before heading out into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

Caireann tied their borrowed boat to a small paddock and wasted no time darting into the woods, Laseviir close behind her. She could see the camp a fair distance away. Soon the sound of battle would shatter the night.

"This way," she told Laseviir.

They wended deeper into the forest and she did a quick mental recounting of the search pattern they were hoping to intercept. Facing the direction she believed correct, she began a series of whistles.

"The Easterlings will hear!" Laseviir hissed at her.

"This is the only way to alert our kin in time so that they might help."

Again she began the same rhythm of high pitched notes and then waited for a reply. They continued to wander through the trees, Caireann whistling at specific intervals.

Laseviir followed behind her, nervously watching the direction of their camp for someone to come. Many minutes crawled by as they walked ever deeper into the forest, broadcasting a call meant to signal to their kin that they were needed to return.

Abruptly, distant sounds of metal clanging against metal resounded to them. Caireann stopped and looked toward the camp, her eyes round with sadness.

"So it begins."

A high pitched note rang through the air south of their position and Caireann's face lit with hope. She returned a different series of whistles and it was repeated back to her. A moment later, another further distant high note echoed and another series followed.

Caireann smiled. "They're coming with all haste! Now we must return to our camp and defend it!"

She didn't wait for a reply from Laseviir. She pivoted toward the camp and sprang into a run, leaving the archer to catch up.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil lifted his head groggily. It refused to remain steady as his body felt too heavy to bear. Dimly he was aware he was in a cart little better than an iron cage on wheels. They were in the streets of Esgaroth. The wooden roads bellowed hollowly beneath him as his prison rumbled along at an uneven gait.

He tried to push himself up but discovered his hands were tightly bound behind him. He realized he'd been stripped of his armor and sword and his crown was also missing. The indignity of it made anger boil under his breast. Fueled by it, he finally managed to right himself against the bars.

The sight of two swarthy men pulling the cart swam nauseously before him, separating into four and then twisting back to just two again.

The light of the flames from a torch mounted on the cart was blinding to his overly sensitive eyes. He closed them for a moment and breathed deeply.

"Where are you taking me?"

The men stopped and the cart lurched a little. Turning to see him awake, they stared in surprise.

"Tolvaris has different plans for you. We can't have you making things difficult," one of them said, though Thranduil couldn't be sure which through the haze of shadows and light.

He breathed through his nose, calculating how much longer the sedative in his system might last at the current rate it was diminishing.

"The chieftains of Rhun are known for their slave trade. What other purpose could Tolvaris have for me?"

Neither man answered.

"Do you not know? I have a few ideas I could offer," Thranduil said. He projected an air of drowsy, calm conversation.

"Could he intend to use me to trade for the humans I still have in my keep? Probably not; such pitiful ragtag men as they are a pence a dozen. Perhaps he hopes to ransom my freedom for the treasury I have collected? Though I fail to see what good such a vast hoard will do him so far from home. Or is it that Tolvaris foolishly believes my son will surrender to save my life?"

The men slowly turned their heads, casting worried glances between them.

Thranduil smiled, ferally and his blue eyes flashed like steel. "How very ambitious of him, trying to claim the Greenwood... Of course, even without me to command my people, Tolvaris will find it impossible to accomplish such a thing. Unless he believes he has an advantage… one that just happens to lie not far from here…"

"That's enough, you overgrown gnome!"

The cart jerked into motion again and Thranduil said nothing in response to that.

Though he believed his kingdom wouldn't fall, he was concerned that Tolvaris could cost many lives during the attempt. Seren was a smokescreen, of that he was certain. He wasn't entirely sure she was irrelevant to them, however.

Still more worrisome was the presence of a dragon's corpse. After Smaug's demise, he had wanted it destroyed and offered to have his people do so before the wyrm began to decompose and swore they would ask nothing in return. The Master had refused. Now it was imperative that he look upon it closely.

He would wait until an opportunity to escape presented itself. He regained strength by the moment, though he feigned being more sedate than he truly was. Patience was something he had plenty of.

 

* * *

 

 

"Did you hear that?" Seren stopped and glanced at Bard.

They were in a narrow alley between buildings, trying to make their way to the street at the edge of the city square when an outburst broke the silence of the night.

Bard's eyes narrowed. "I did."

He pointed toward the direction of the sound and they turned abruptly down a street reaching behind the Master's keep. The tail end of a cart, lit by a torch on the front, disappeared around another corner, continuing away from the large building and into more congested passages lined with homes.

"Who do you suppose they're moving?" Bard asked.

"Eleros, Nuinethir, the king – take your pick." Seren watched the shadows cast by the moving lantern. "If it is one of my kin, it bodes ill that they have been separated from the rest. We have to get closer to be sure."

She took a step toward the fading light but Bard held fast to her arm.

"They're going in the wrong direction. If we hope to discover what's going on inside and free as many as we can, we can't afford to waste time chasing one elf."

Seren straightened her back. "Then you go on. I cannot just leave someone behind! I have to try."

She tugged her arm free and slipped down the street. Bard flattened his lips into a grim line and hurried after her.

He followed the left turn the cart had made before rounding to the right and getting a look ahead. He stopped next to Seren who was staring somberly at the cart.

"Thranduil…"

The long folded form and strong features were unmistakable despite his appearance. It was jarring to see him like this and yet he himself didn't seem diminished.

Bard sighed in defeat. "There are only two men. He seems sedated however. He won't be able to help us," he added as the elvenking listed sideways.

"Where would they be taking him?" Seren asked, not budging her eyes from the cart.

Bard considered for a moment. "The large shipping docks are in that direction. Caireann mentioned the East's slave trade… If they have a boat or a barge…"

Seren's jaw clenched. "Then we have to get him out now or he'll be lost."

Bard nodded in agreement. "Two on two odds are good." He looked uncertainly at Seren's profile. "Do you think you can manage?"

She remained silent for a long moment.

"I don't like fighting and the only thing I've ever killed is an orc." Her voice was a little high and tight. Finally, she looked at him. "But I'll do what I can."

Bard nodded nervously. "Then we had better make our first move count. Come on."

He took a long narrow alley to the left, beckoning Seren after him. The passage turned right and let out onto a street the cart would have to traverse after its most recent turn. It was dark here as the buildings hid the moon from view and darker still in the alley. Silently they waited.

After several long and heavy moments, the sound of wheels rolling over planks echoed in the street and Bard stood.

"Here they come," he whispered.

The passage filled with the glow of the singular torch and they retreated deeper into the shadows. Next to her, Bard shifted into a crouch. Seren drew the dagger Tellis had given her and flattened against the wall.

When the cart rolled past, she darted out behind it to the far side and hurried toward the front of the cage behind one of the men pushing the long handle.

She heard Bard strike the man on the left and before the one in front of her could react; she rushed past him, blade extended and sliced the back of his right knee.

He yelped and the limb buckled. He stumbled backwards into the cage as blood sprayed the planks below and clutched for the ruined leg.

Bard held his target close to him, a hand clamped hard over the man's mouth as he flailed for the wound in his neck. He was trying to staunch the flow of blood but his color was paling with every second.

Rustling from the cart drew Seren's attention in time to see Thranduil rise onto his knees and shove his bound hands through one of the gaps in the bars. He snagged the knots up under her target's chin and pulled him back against the cage, holding him there.

The man scrabbled at the bindings and scratched at the hands pinning him in a mad panic to breathe but Thranduil's hold was immovable.

Disheveled, disarmed and unarmored as he was, the elvenking had never seemed more dangerous. His face was a still mask of cold fury and his long pale locks partially hid his visage in shadows.

The man's attempts to pry the obstruction from his throat began to weaken and his face had become sickeningly red and blotchy.

Seren stepped back to avoid being splattered with blood from his injured leg as he kicked futilely. Keys jangled at his waist and she hastily tugged them free.

Bard approached cautiously, his features pinched and flicked a worried glance at Seren.

Little by little, the life left the man's beady brown eyes. Seren told herself it was necessary, that this man and his ilk were taking her people and would sell them into whatever fate would fetch the highest price. It made it easier to bear witness. Though she knew, for her part in it, this moment would haunt her dreams for a time.

Thranduil didn't release the man until he'd been still for several moments. When he finally allowed the body drop, he shifted his attention to Bard and then Seren.

He let his gaze sway uneasily over her from the tips of her boots to her wide green eyes. Heat and tension flooded him to see her standing there. He was also simply glad to see friendly faces, though there were two blurry versions of everything in his vision at the moment.

"Hello," she said, discomfort over the dead man making her voice quiver slightly.

She shook herself and stepped to the lock mechanism, trying keys in the tumbler. There were only four and soon she had the door unlatched.

Bard stepped next to her as the elvenking stumbled out; still fighting off the sedation he'd been subjected to and helped Seren steady him. When he was certain the king wouldn't fall over, he left them to search the pockets of the dead Easterlings.

Thranduil leaned on the cage, breathing deeply and let Seren take his hands to slice at the knots binding them with her blade. He was annoyed to have been right to worry she'd defy him and leave the camp but also relieved to see her unharmed.

The ropes around his wrists loosened. Her touch flushed through his skin as she held one of his hands still, pulling the loops open and then repeating the maneuver. He shook them off and flexed his fingers though the nerves in his stomach refused to settle.

"Thank you, Seren."

She nodded and slid the blade back into its sheath and then simply watched him critically for a moment. A faint tremble shook him at times and his pupils seemed too large in the low light. Whatever was used in the darts still seemed to affect him.

"We were heading to town hall," she said finally. "It seemed prudent to discover what we're up against."

Thranduil hummed in agreement.

"They are led by a half-elven named Tolvaris and entered the keep from the water through the causeway that takes in goods for the Master. I was rendered unconscious before their numbers were revealed to me and woke in this cage."

Bard came around the cart, a piece of rolled parchment in his hand. "Twenty four were sent to your camp. For what purpose, I can only guess. Caireann returned to try and fend them off."

"We must go as well," Thranduil declared, not quite looking at the human. "Once we have reclaimed the situation in the forest, we can return with greater numbers."

Seren thought about Nuinethir and Eleros and her eyes fell closed as they stung. A shadow was cast over the dancing orange light of the torch and she opened them again to see Thranduil in front of her, though his gaze took a moment to focus on hers.

"We will return for them."

She nodded and breathed in hard. "Then let us not waste time."

"We should get as far from here as we can; as quickly as we can," Bard said.

He turned and hurried back down the path from which the cart had come, looking back to see that they were following.

Thranduil had to readjust his trajectory as he pursued. The sedative was still making it difficult to keep his bearings. When he adjusted again, Seren's hand gently clasped his and tugged him into the shadows behind her. Hoping he was making eye contact with the genuine apparition, he smiled with gratitude. It was a barely perceptible quirk of his lips but he felt her hand squeeze his briefly in response.

The next turn led out to the street connected to the square that surrounded town hall and the bowman waved at them to hide.

Seren dipped behind a long sign mounted on the corner of a shop and put her back to the wall, pulling Thranduil with her. They pressed into the shadows as a pair of Easterlings strode past the mouth of the street. For several tense moments, she didn't dare breathe too hard and she hoped the men wouldn't decide to turn down the passage they were in. The air felt suffocating and Thranduil's presence against her side felt heavy, her palm too hot against his as she pressed him back.

Finally the intruders were beyond their street and they moved out into the open once again, waiting for Bard to signal them to follow. As they entered the courtyard surrounding the master's residence, Seren noted the increase in roaming men.

"Somehow I doubt we're leaving through the front gate," she said.

Behind her, Thranduil narrowed his gaze at the riot of light and shadows, wishing to see what they did.

"How many do you count?" he asked.

Seren answered almost immediately, "Eight, including the two who just passed us."

"They will likely circle around here soon," Thranduil noted. "Town hall is what they are guarding."

Bard agreed and they hurried forward. Once they made their way past the large building, they took a street that led to the same docks he had seen Caireann and Laseviir off from.

"There are more boats over here. We can take one of them to the Lake's southern shore."

Suddenly, an alarmed shout shattered the quiet.

Seren jumped within her skin, reflexively clutching Thranduil's hand tighter.

The sound had come from the intersection they'd deserted.

"I think they found the mess we left," Bard said.

The king smirked.

More shouts filled the air and footsteps began to pound the wooden planks of the city not far from where they stood.

"This way!" the bowman hissed and took off at a run.

Thranduil followed the pull of Seren's hand. Though his vision had cleared a small degree, it was still too blurry and it doubled dizzyingly when he moved too quickly.

He could sense Seren leaning and followed her movements, surprised they smoothly cleared a left turn and then a right, followed by some large equipment.

"Two steps," she said suddenly and then she was bounding them.

He followed seamlessly.

Their surroundings became lighter and wider as more moonlight spilled over them. They were in the southern market.

Instead of going straight to the small docks, they wove around carts and crates and storage sheds before reaching a tool shack built on raised scaffolding. Hanging from yardarms, ten feet above the water, was a longboat in need of repairs.

Bard led them to the ladder and Thranduil went first into the shack, followed by Seren. As soon as her feet were solidly on the floor, Thranduil hauled her back against the wall with him as Bard slipped inside along the opposite wall.

She managed to stifle a gasp and her hearing dimmed around the roar of her pulse but when she glanced outside through a gap in the wood, she saw swarthy men roaming toward the docks. Suddenly the bodily manhandling made sense, though her nerves didn't care as she hid in the slim shadows with Thranduil partially tucked behind her.

The men on the deck below spread out. It would only be a matter of time before they came to the shack. Seren glanced in alarm at Bard.

He gestured toward to the open doors and the boat beyond. It was covered by a tarp.

"Over here," she whispered and pulled on Thranduil's hand.

He followed to the edge, reaching for whatever he was supposed to find and Seren helped guide him into the longboat.

She joined him a moment later and he forcefully steered his mind away from considering the feel of her weight against him, though his awareness of her was distractingly keen.

Bard directed them to lie down and reached for the tarp.

"What about you?" Seren hissed.

"I'll be fine."

He didn't wait for another question and pulled the tarp back into place before reaching for the crank to extend the yardarms out. The boat was moved several feet away from the shack and it swung idly on the pulleys holding it aloft.

Nerves fluttered in Seren's stomach as she chanced a peek from under the tarp. The boat was too far out from the shack for Bard to make it inside. Instead of trying to reach the boat, however; he clutched for hand holds on the shack's exterior and pulled himself out onto the wall. Shuffling over to a yardarm, he pulled himself onto the roof and laid flat on it.

Seren shook her head, smirking. A man appeared on the ladder through the shack's window and she hurriedly pulled back and tucked the tarp down, lying on the floor of the boat to wait.

Thranduil pinched his mouth into a line to stall his questions. By now, if Bard hadn't managed to hide, they would have heard the eastern men celebrating their discovery. He wanted to shift into a more comfortable position but he knew the tiniest movements could shake the boat enough to catch attention.

Not far from their hiding place, the Easterlings were arguing.

"We should probably check the boat."

"How do you think they would have gotten into it? They couldn't jump that distance and the crank is here. Let's go back down and keep checking the dock. There are a lot of barrels and crates they could hide in."

"Do we even know what we're looking for? Besides the elf king, I mean," the other one groused as they descended the ladder.

As the men's footsteps retreated, Seren released a breath she didn't know she was holding. The men weren't giving up that easily however and she settled in to wait.

Next to her, Thranduil slowly shifted onto his back. The boat was just wide enough to fit them but there was no room keep any space between them and in the cold air, his warmth suffused her left side.

For many moments they lay quietly, listening to the men below tear shipping crates apart.

Suddenly Seren giggled on a soft breath.

Curiosity piqued, Thranduil turned his head in her direction. "What is it?"

He could hear the smile in her words as she whispered, "I was just thinking of asking how your sight is doing… Then I realized it was a silly thing to ask."

Thranduil's eyes roamed the total darkness and an amused huff escaped him. "Very silly indeed," he whispered in return.

Seren bit her lip to stifle a stronger giggle.

"You are just as blind as I, for the moment," he continued.

"Yes, we are both in the same boat." Her shoulders shook silently with mirth from her own joke.

Thranduil said nothing to that though Seren chose to believe the faint huff she heard was amusement.

After several long moments, he spoke again in a very low tone. "How is it you can laugh at such a time as this?"

Seren swallowed. "I suppose… It helps to keep me calm."

Abruptly she shrugged and turned her head toward him, though she couldn't see him. "There are also times when something is just amusing."

"Hm…" To himself, Thranduil felt as if his thoughts must echo in the heavy darkness, so loud did they seem. "I must admit I find myself envious."

Seren blinked. She didn't know what to say and she stared into the blackness where the sound of his breathing came from.

Eventually he continued. "It cannot be a coincidence the Easterlings are here now. A dragon's remains are a powerful resource, though the lingering magic surrounding them is dangerous."

"Can they be disposed of?" Seren recalled what Thranduil said about dragon magic being the reason Smaug hadn't been destroyed.

"I offered to have it done, despite the risk to my people but the Master refused; preferring to serve his pride and vanity."

Seren fidgeted. "What use can dragon remains be to anyone?"

"There are many. Weapons forged in fire fueled by dragon bone will inflict lasting injuries that are difficult to heal. The substance within a fire gland can be applied to arrows and when loosed, they light with flame. Heart blood of a dragon is especially dire, however. Dragon magic is the antithesis of all other magic. To those most sensitive to the essence within and of Arda, a wound poisoned with a dragon's heart blood is fatal and without a cure. It is a slow and painful death, destroying not just the flesh but the _fea_ of its victims."

A heavy feeling landed in Seren's stomach. "You fear they will come to the Greenwood."

"Sauron's influence assures it," the elvenking said, grimly. "For over an age, his minions have encroached upon my land and forced my people to retreat. There is precious little of the Greenwood left to defend."

Seren thought of the sickened forest surrounding Thranduil's realm. It was difficult to imagine it had once been lush and beautiful. The memory of what happened during her run through the woods came to mind and she retold of the experience. The king seemed to welcome the change in topic and was genuinely intrigued. When she finished her tale, he was silent while he considered.

"It is rare for the Valar to interfere as Mandos has with you," he said. "The predisposition of your gifts would fall under the purview of Yavanna, she who was responsible for all that grows in Arda. The Guardians who tended the Trees would have been given Varda's blessing. Any of the three could have been responsible for your fate. I could not say what is intended for you and would risk their wrath if I tried… but I must admit I do wonder if your nature would be of use to our kingdom."

Seren shrugged. "No one has objected so far."

Thranduil smirked. "An astute observation."

For a time, Seren quietly considered another more prosaic theory. "What if I'm simply an accident? Maybe I'm not meant to have been at all."

"It is possible," Thranduil admitted, "You may be merely an unintended consequence of another action, though the Valar have never made such a mistake before."

She didn't reply and instead turned her mind to their current situation. The world outside of their hiding place was quiet now and she pulled up a small edge of the tarp to survey the docks below.

They were a mess. Every crate had been opened and goods were spilled everywhere. Many things floated in the water where crates had been pried apart and dumped. Several barrels floated just off the docks.

There was no sign of Easterlings however and Bard had also gone from his rooftop perch.

Adding to the debris in the lake, the boats once tethered to the piers had all been released and now drifted many yards away on the water's surface.

Seren released a heavy sigh. A moment later, she felt Thranduil roll against her back as he followed suit and raised himself up to look out into the night. His profile appeared over her shoulder in the left periphery of her vision and his arm hovered above her, just brushing her waist as he held onto the side of the vessel in which they lay.

She drew a feathery light breath. "Has your vision improved?"

"I do not think I will need the assistance I required before," he replied dryly.

He looked down at her and paused, suddenly aware of how close they were. Before he could retreat, she looked away and stared at the docks. Her focus was so sharp, he thought it seemed forced, a distraction tactic.

"I don't see Bard," she said.

Then he felt it: the subtle rhythmic thump ghosting against him and echoing in the wood around her. His stomach flipped and a flush suffused him. His own pulse pounded a little harder through him.

He thought back to other moments when she seemed frustrated with him, dancing away from discussing it under the guise of a new subject. Redirection was something she excelled in. Then he remembered how she had flushed and stumbled in his hold when he helped her from the boulder; and the way she stuttered on his title without cause; the concern she displayed for him… His mind spun in circles around the notion that she was affected by him.

She continued casually, "We probably shouldn't wait for him. The yardarm –"

"Seren…"

He flicked a glance at the arm he had extended over her and appraised the situation. He decided against giving her a little more room just yet.

She twisted toward him and he noted that she felt warmer.

"We are relatively safe for the moment," he said.

"Well, yes."

Her manner was affable and deceptively matter-of-fact. He admired how completely oblivious she presented herself to be.

"For the moment our lives aren't in imminent danger," she agreed.

A smirk graced Thranduil's features and he leaned closer to whisper in her ear, resisting a chuckle as the beat in her skin picked up speed.

"Yet I can feel your heart drumming a staccato against the floor of the boat. Why is that?"

Seren swallowed hard a few times, her face suddenly so hot it stung her eyes. Try as she might, no plausible answer would present itself. She was certain it was futile. Thranduil's tone betrayed that this wasn't honest curiosity. He _knew…_

She let out a long breath and inhaled again, trying to bring stillness to her mind and body. Resigned, she made herself meet his gaze and forced down the jitters.

"I'm fond of you... in a way I shouldn't be." The words were mostly steady but it took an effort not to tremble as adrenaline coursed through her with their utterance.

He tilted his head and raised a brow. "Romantically?"

She couldn't help the small smile and shook her head fondly. "Of course." She studied him critically. "Though I think you knew as much when you asked."

Thranduil's reply was a little sheepish. "It did occur to me, but only just." He released the boat and took her wrist in his hand. He found the soft spot underneath it easily and thumbed the fluttering skin. "You were betrayed…"

Seren resisted the urge to relish the warmth the touch caused, watching him with a narrowed gaze instead.

"Otherwise, I might not have known."

She took a steadying breath, pulling her hand free. The friction made her skin prickle underneath her wool tunic. "Like all such things, it will fade in time."

"And if it does not?"

"There is no point in discussing it, my lord," she retorted, her annoyance beginning to rise.

"No?" He couldn't resist matching the confrontation in her tone.

"I think I can guess what kind of objections you would raise: I'm human, you're immortal. You're a king, I'm a stranger from another world. Practical concerns aside, I hold no illusions about this. I don't need to hear it said."

Thranduil marveled at the vulnerability on display. He had not seen her so raw since her first night in his kingdom. He felt heat and a mix of emotions cascade through him. His pulse throbbed faster and he dragged in a breath.

"You are not far wrong."

She scoffed. "Really? I don't think I've missed anything."

"No, but you are mistaken." He leaned over her to pull the tarp down.

"About what?"

"Me."

Seren parted her lips to reply but Thranduil claimed them with his own. The heat that had been simmering in her belly since they climbed into the boat bloomed into a fire and swept through her. A mewl of pleasure escaped as a hand slid over her jaw and cradled her head. She sighed and turned into him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic over his ribcage.

Thranduil groaned when she relented and he pulled her against him. He pressed harder into the kiss, tasting her mouth and breathed hard when she opened up to him. Desire flooded him. She was soft and pliable, molding to him over every inch and his ability to think fled when she held him to her. Fingers snaked into his hair, massaging the nape of his neck. He shuddered.

The boat jerked softly and the pulleys it hung from squealed quietly. They parted as if cleaved by an axe. Seren rolled away, struggling to breathe normally and listening to Thranduil trying to do the same. Dozens of remarks vied for priority but she didn't trust herself to speak.

Bard announced himself. "We must be quick! Patrols come this way at short intervals."

As the boat knocked against the shack once again, Seren threw the tarp back and rose from it. Bard offered his hand and steadied her as she stepped into the small space. Thranduil followed smoothly. His eyes tracked everything with precision and were no longer lost to the black of his pupils.

The bowman, peered out and hurried down the ladder. Seren went next and then Thranduil. She waited to see that he made it before turning away to follow Bard. Daylight would arrive soon as the sky's deep blue color had begun to fade.

Patrols of Easterlings could be heard stomping over the wooden streets and angry shouts from guards that had been locked in stores echoed over the city. Citizens cowered in their homes as the intruders walked past.

"Suddenly it seems a fantastic folly to have constructed only one passage into and out of Lake Town," Bard groused.

They tucked between buildings and wove through the streets, stopping to hide whenever a patrol passed. The service dock loomed ahead and Bard hustled them to a small row boat hiding between barges.

Seren looked out to the water, surprised to see white fog advancing on the lake. Dawn was also rapidly turning the sky gray. She grinned.

"Bard, let me say your reputation is vastly inadequate."

He smiled. "Thank you."

Once they were all seated, he and Thranduil took the oars in hand and they pushed off into the misty camouflage.

Seren's thoughts veered back to what had just transpired and she shivered as the cold contrasted with the warmth that suffused her. She wondered what Thranduil was playing at. He had told her she was mostly correct to think her feelings could go nowhere and yet he'd kissed her and now a terrible hope plagued her mind. She closed her eyes against unbidden memories and tried to focus on what was ahead of them. Thranduil's actions wouldn't matter if they didn't make it home alive.

_Please let the others be alright._


	23. A Terrible Necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every new decision is harder than the last and it is Seren who must make it this time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who are still keeping up with this. I wanted to have more to post but I thought it better to at least offer this since it has been almost two weeks since my last update. I hope to have more up on the weekend. There is still more to this chapter which will now be chapter 24 but, ah well. Enjoy!

Seren startled, waking suddenly when the boat knocked against the dock. How long the journey across the lake took, she didn't know but she recalled little of it. She hadn't realized how exhausted she had been and recalled Tellis admonishing her for this very thing just hours earlier.

"We have reached the shore," Thranduil said.

He stood over her, looking uncertainly upon her and many thoughts swirled in his expression. He held them back for the time being, however, and extended a hand to her.

She placed her hand in his and focused on shaking off the cobwebs in her head as she was hauled upright and the little boat bobbed on the water when she disembarked. The sight of another little boat abruptly reminded her why they were here. A shiver rustled through her limbs.

The morning was cold and gray and the fog was thick in the air. Bard and Thranduil joined her and led the way into the trees, leaving her to follow.

The king paused to listen and his mouth flattened into a line.

"It's too quiet," Bard said.

"Indeed," Thranduil replied, his voice a low growl.

He set off again, this time at a determined gait. He knew the way and he stalked through the forest almost too quickly for his human companions.

Seren hustled and rushed, slipping around trees and under swaying branches. She wanted to call out for Thranduil to slow down but it was of no use. He wouldn't lessen his pace and she wanted to reach the camp just as he did. Her drowsy mind and body protested the sudden exertion so soon after waking but she pushed on. The king was perhaps six feet ahead of her but it may as well have been sixty for all she could see through the fog, so she relied on her other senses to stay with him.

As she passed tree trunks, touching them for balance in her haste, her mind became more alert and the slowness of her body faded. The faint hum she'd grown used to these past few days, pressed a little louder into her thoughts but she didn't indulge the urge to reach out for the essence – or soul or whatever it was – of the forest. A slightly hysterical feeling rose within her and it was all she could do not to laugh out loud.

The white tents of their camp came into view – looming large and suddenly in front of them as a testament to how dense the fog was. Thranduil paused at the edge and again listened.

Faint voices made it to his ears and he hurried into the clearing, Bard following hard on his heels. They spread out, looking around hurriedly for intruders. There were Easterlings lying motionless in the dirt among those who were wounded, dead or drugged but no immediate threat presented itself.

Seren came into the camp at a slower stride and surveyed the elves that remained. Many were asleep, knocked out like Esgaroth's guards had been. Others were sporting injuries, their own blades bloodied as well. The search groups had all returned, Seren noted. Many elves were swaying drowsily where they sat. She went to their food stores, finding much had been taken but some fruits and bread still remained. These she doled out as she stooped to check on those who seemed able to eat. Some she found lying still and breathed with relief when she discovered a pulse.

One elven man was cradling a slashed leg and she removed her pack and rummaged through it for a bandage. After binding the wound tightly, she shouldered her pack again and roamed further down the camp's clearing.

Some of the tents had been slashed open. The tent she shared with Caireann had met a grisly end and was little more than a wooden frame draped in loose swaths of white suede. Through the wrecked fabric, it was plain that everything had been ransacked.

Seren spotted the little chest she kept her personal things in and she struggled to drag air into her lungs. It was cleaved open and lay in large splinters on the ground and nothing she'd kept in it appeared in the array of detritus littering the winter packed soil. Her sketchbook had been in there.

Pressure built behind her sternum and a fist felt like it closed around her windpipe. She kicked the pile of wood around with her boot and frantically gazed the scope of the space that had been her tent. She hadn't realized a sob escaped her until Thranduil called to her softly, curiosity and concern in a look.

She met his gaze and he stared at the sight around her, eyes lighting upon the ruined chest and widening. Seren shook her head and purposely strode away and once again focused her attention on their kin.

"So far, there are six wounded," Bard said across the clearing. He nodded at the ones lying on the ground. "Many are still under the influence of the poison that knocked out the city watch."

Seren gazed around as he spoke, her motions grew more agitated and she called out, "Caireann?" She would have expected the warrior to show herself before the king as soon as he arrived. It wasn't like her not to immediately avail herself to him.

"She's…. not here…" Tellis said breathlessly.

He was being helped to his feet by another elf and his legs buckled under his own weight. He tried again, and managed to wobble over to them at a listing gait.

"What do you mean?" Thranduil was before the elf in two long strides. "There are four others of our kin who are also unaccounted for. Caireann makes the fifth – where are they?"

Tellis seemed ready to collapse under the exhaustion caused by the Eastern intruders' weapon of choice but he remained standing.

"She arrived… shortly after the attack began. She and Laseviir… We fought… but were no match for the men who arrived. Eight against two dozen… They fell to the darts… but they bought us time."

"My search party and the others had just returned in time to fend them off," said the elf supporting Tellis. The advisor sagged sleepily against him. "Once the Easterlings began to fall; the rest retreated and took some of our kin as they fled – Caireann among them."

Seren's eyes were round as saucers and she stared out across the camp, hoping her eyes would prove these words a lie. Caireann was nowhere to be found. Neither was Laseviir. Her heart hammered hard against her ribs and her face grew hot. She cast a red-eyed glance at Thranduil. The king's expression had hardened as he absorbed the news and a tendon in his neck stood out.

She wanted to insist – loudly – that they needed to make all haste after them, but she knew very few were in a condition to do so. A wretched shuddering inhale made her quiver and she abruptly turned from the group and went to the camp's edge, staring out into the fog draped forest.

This time, when she reached for a tree, she let the strange sensation of its essence flow to her and a cooling rush of calm washed over her nerves. Every plant she couldn't see in the fog stood out in bright shades of blue, silver, green and pale gold. Dark spots where the ground had been trampled and jagged broken lines where twigs had been snapped provided some clue as to the direction the Easterlings had gone but little else.

A strange pulse in the light that she'd never seen before echoed around her and when she turned to follow the source, she found the elvenking walking toward her. His steps echoed in the ground, trading light with light as he moved.

Thranduil held a breath when her green eyes met his. They were alight, resembling emerald stars and he noted her contact with the tree. An epiphany struck him then. "What do you see?"

Seren released her hold of the young pine and the unnaturally bright shade of green in her eyes dissipated. She looked back out to the forest beyond, seeing only the white mist once again. "Legolas said Arda has a soul… That all living things are connected to it. I think that is what I see… and feel."

She sighed heavily, shaking her head sadly. "But it tells me nothing useful," she said, her voice threatening to crack. "Only that a large group of people recently marched south from our clearing..."

Thranduil spotted a snapped branch through the drifting haze of fog. "We may yet still save those who were taken. If this is the direction they traveled, they must have a camp somewhere near."

"They would have to have a camp here or a boat, though we never were able to ascertain this ourselves," Bard said breathlessly. He stumbled to a stop and another elf stood with him, clearly winded.

"The far side of the lake, my lord…"

"What is it?"

The elf straightened and breathed deep. He gestured to another elf who looked as haggard. "We've just returned from scouting. There is a large company of Eastern men just north of the Long Lake – approximately three thousand strong. They travel the river's path north, into the Greenwood."

Bard produced a piece of crumpled parchment and Seren recalled the one she'd seen rolled in his hand earlier. "I'd almost forgotten this… I can't read it."

Thranduil took it, spread it open and glared over the script. It was a derivative of an Elvish dialect. "There are orders here. Tolvaris intended me to die as a test of their new weapon; the Dragon's Heart. He is familiar with the lore…"

Foreboding settled into Seren's breast. "If they're marching now…"

Tellis shuffled over to them slowly but without help and Seren marveled at his recovery, though his eyes didn't focus on anything; just as it had been with Thranduil. It would be an hour or two before he could see properly again.

"We must return to our hall, my lord," the advisor said. "Legolas must be warned."

Seren felt her mouth open on a silent gasp and she gazed to the south again. First Nuinethir and Eleros and now one of her dearest friends had all been taken. She blinked back tears to even think of turning and going the other direction. She recalled what she had said to Bard about needing to try and save Thranduil before she had known it was him. Her friends surely deserved no less. Yet even as she considered it, she knew they would rather die than have their lives saved at such a cost. This time, the consequences of such a selfish action were clearer and far more dire.

"Our numbers are still too few since our losses at the Lonely Mountain five years ago and Smaug's remains lie in the lake," Thranduil said. "The Easterlings see this as an ideal opportunity to strike."

Bard scowled. "They can't take your kingdom by force but with enough Dragon's Heart, half your people will be dead or dying in a matter of weeks."

The king's mouth set into a grim line and he looked at Seren's profile. He watched as she turned back to face them, her eyes flitting around nervously before meeting his.

She forced herself to breathe deeply and swallowed a sob. A quick check of her math told her the miles to the kingdom amounted to about twenty given they'd traversed the distance in a little more than a day at a slow pace before. She knew she could run it and return home by nightfall if the terrain wasn't too unforgiving.

"If they had warning, would that save them?"

Thranduil didn't look away from her. "Caught unaware, our people will suffer heavy losses – losses we can ill-afford and may never recover from. With time to prepare, the attack will be far less devastating."

He continued to watch her. A cold sadness settled within when he understood a truth and saw the moment she realized the same and made a decision. There was a brief, aborted attempt to glance back to the south but she stopped herself and closed her eyes.

"An army that size will move slowly…"

"Well, yes," Bard said and Seren opened her eyes to regard him. "But they will keep to the river's path in the forest. There is no way to pass them unseen."

Seren's jaw clenched, her breathing forced to an even rhythm as she focused on the matter at hand. "I do not intend to take the river's path. I can cross through the trees, head them off and get to Legolas in time to warn him."

Bard's eyes widened and Tellis scoffed.

"It is not a place for a stroll," Tellis said. "You will be lost."

Seren glared at him. "I am the only runner here."

She returned her gaze to Thranduil. "I'm not Nuinethir or Eleros but you have no one else available who can make the distance in time."

"My lord!" Tellis protested. "She is not of our kind! The forest will lead her astray."

"I do not fear the forest," Seren replied.

Thranduil held up a hand to forestall Tellis's next retort, never breaking eye contact with Seren. For a long moment he simply studied her. He knew why she was certain of herself in the forest even though Tellis did not. It didn't make his agreement with her any easier, however. Finally he nodded once.

Seren began shrugging off her pack while Tellis stuttered over a reply and Bard asked questions over her head. She opened the satchel and claimed a water skin and unbelted the dagger she'd been given, holding it out to Tellis.

"You will need it," he said.

"If I find myself in a predicament in which I would use this, the entire point of my departure will be lost. It will do me little good."

The lanky elf reluctantly accepted the blade and Seren went to work unclasping her cloak and then removed her long grey tunic before strapping the water skin to her back. The cold air passed through her dark blue linen shirt and made her shiver but soon it would be no bother at all.

"You're going to let her do this?" Bard asked the elvenking as he took the items she discarded.

Seren's gaze snapped to his and he swallowed, looking back at Thranduil.

A dark humored smirk curled the king's lips on one end. "It is likely I would have to order her restrained if I were to stop her. However, she is correct: no one else currently here is a runner."

Seren huffed and pressed her pack into the king's arms. "There's some food, water and first aid supplies – utensils to make fire…"

Thranduil nodded.

Seren breathed deeply, pausing again to steady her nerves. She wanted nothing more than to run south rather than north. Every fiber of her being had begun to quiver and she _needed_ to run more than ever. Her heart ached with betrayal even as she believed in the terrible necessity of leaving.

Now that she was ready, Thranduil waited while she struggled for a moment. He too, felt keenly the desire to save friends. He nearly reminded her that there would be time to try and save the others after the kingdom was safe but he held his tongue. She had claimed she trusted him but he was surprised to realize he didn't entirely believe it to be true. He didn't trust her as fully as he would like. If he had to remind her of her words, he never would.

Seren turned south and, in her thoughts, offered an apology to her friends before turning north and striding across the camp.

"Seren?"

She stopped and met the king's gaze. "Fortune speed your steps and guide you safely."

She nodded, her throat working hard and she muttered. "And you, Thranduil; stay safe. All of you," she added after a moment with a stern stare around the beleaguered camp.

She pivoted north again and started into a jog, quickly accelerating into a run. The border of the camp flew past her and she ran along the path for several paces before ducking down into a sprint and leaping over a fallen log on the path's edge. From there, a breeze pushed into her back and she pointed herself into the trees, pressing her feet fleetingly against the ground. Her limbs warmed, guiding her past pines and oaks and over rocks. The mist covered green expanse ahead of her became a blur and every touch upon a living thing brought forth a piece of the picture of the forest ahead. She settled into a rhythm and soon was out of sight.

The wind blew around him as Thranduil watched her go, inhaling against the tight feeling in his ribs. He swallowed, his jaw tensed and then he breathed, blinking a few times.

Next to him, Bard watched the flash of red and blue grow smaller. "She is indeed very quick of foot." He glanced at the elvenking and did a double take. The royal elf appeared a little overwhelmed.

"King Thranduil?"

"I have not seen her run since the day I met her. Nuinethir did not exaggerate when he said she had improved."

"What about the forest? Do you not worry if she will make it through Mirkwood?"

Thranduil smiled softly to himself. "No."

"You would believe the word of a human for something as important as this?" Tellis demanded. He stared at the last place Seren had been visible.

Thranduil was quiet for many moments before he replied. "She is kin, Tellis and she has my trust."

* * *

"We will have to intervene sooner than I believed…"

Elrond looked up from a scroll he was studying to see Galadriel standing just inside the door to his favorite library. Slowly he blinked as her words settled in. "You have new insight?"

"Indeed," the lady of Lothlorien intoned serenely. She drifted closer to him, her large blue eyes worried. "Seren has grown into her abilities more than I expected. Her time will come sooner than I supposed."

Elrond sighed. "It is imperative that she know everything before then."

Galadriel smiled. "As I said, we will have to intervene. We can wait for Saruman no longer."

The scroll was tidily rolled up and replaced in its nook before Elrond stood. "We will depart in three days. There are preparations I must make."

Galadriel nodded in acknowledgement and strode beside him as they left the library. "I still do not know who is responsible for Seren's resurgence or why it was done. The answer hovers before me but it is as a light that has been snuffed."

Elrond said nothing to that and kept his eyes on the hallway ahead. His lack of curiosity was telling enough. Galadriel turned her gaze upon him and he knew she believed he held that particular answer.

"Lord Elrond?"

He sighed. "It is a matter to be discussed with Seren alone."

Galadriel slowly drew in a gentle breath. "Of what nature is this matter?" she asked, trying to glean what she could.

Elrond considered for a moment before deciding of that much at least, he could speak. "Atonement."


	24. The Road Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas waits, Bard and Thranduil reach an understanding and Seren communes with the trees of Mirkwood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who has been patiently waiting. I'm sorry to keep you all hanging. The holidays were pretty crazy and the muse all but deserted me since I could only pluck a few lines here and there when I had time before greeting my work induced exhaustion. It seems to be returning now, though and the story is flowing again. Anyway... it's not much but I hope you enjoy this bit. I hope your holidays were amazing and wish you all a fantastic new year!

 

 

**The Road Home**

 

Agony in her side pulled Caireann from the blackness of sleep as she was tossed to the hard floor of a tent. The small groan of pain that escaped was masked when she bounced into a set of crates. She didn't open her eyes right away as she silently celebrated that she was alive. During the battle at the camp, she'd taken an arrow to her shoulder and a flail to her ribs before being struck in the abdomen by a red feathered quill. She'd feared she had been poisoned but now she worried about why she hadn't been killed outright.

Her hands and feet were tightly bound and she felt other bound forms near her. Distantly, a part of her mind scoffed about her predicament. Just three months ago, she had been similarly captured with Haavelas. The reminder of her cousin raised a sob of grief and it hurt to swallow it back down. There would be no Legolas or meddling humans or king to save her this time, though she could picture Seren making every insistence that they be rescued and it made the warrior smile.

Slowly she opened her eyes and blinked against the assault of light and color. Her vision refused to form a picture of her surroundings and the blurs of color shifted endlessly. It seemed those who dumped them in the tent had left immediately after releasing them.

Sounds of what could only be a large camp told her she'd been moved far from her people. The search groups had arrived to send the Easterlings back from her own camp, just as she hoped. The Easterlings gathered those they could and fled.

A low groan not far from where she lay identified Laseviir and she grimaced.

"Do not move too suddenly or open your eyes just yet. The poison makes it impossible to see and you will only blind yourself," she whispered.

"Caireann?" the archer murmured. He tried to shift closer to her, grunting as his bindings thwarted him. "Why take us prisoner?" A note of panic crept into his young voice.

"I imagine healthy elves would command an attractive price on their slave market."

Shock jolted Laseviir. "Slaves? They would dare?"

"They will try," Caireann said darkly. "They will fail. Now rest so when the time comes, you can leave under your own motivation."

Reluctantly Laseviir settled back to the winter hardened ground and began meditating. Question about Caireann's ideas about how they might free themselves swirled in his thoughts but he held them back so she too could rest. He couldn't fathom how they might escape but he did know that he would earn his death if they couldn't.

* * *

Seren lost track of how long she'd been running. The clear air of the trees that cradled the river had ceded to a cloying heavy atmosphere and it lightened her head at times. She paused to breathe deeply and rested against a twisted thick trunk.

The tree she leaned on pressed against her thoughts and she lowered her guard. A moment later she flinched. It was very sick forest. Everything pulled at her, seeming to grasp at anything that wasn't corrupted for even the briefest respite from the rot and decay.

Like all plants, trees were part of nature's way of absorbing poisons and leaving the air purified. The trees for which the forest was called Mirkwood released only foul plumes that sickened the mind. Sadness from the forest threatened to overwhelm her and she almost wished she couldn't know this. For an intense moment, she longed for the simplicity of her forested mountains back on Earth. Here, in Middle Earth, every touch brought a piece of knowledge about the world around her and with it, a pressing urge to help.

A desire to comfort rose in her mind and she remembered the piercing pain she'd felt before in front of Thranduil. This time she didn't resist, letting it shudder through her. It mingled in the skin of her palm that rested on the tree and felt like a whisper of energy gently peeled from her like when she'd held Menui's Niphredil. The tree seemed greener and healthier in some abstract way. She gazed wide-eyed at her hands for a moment. A feeling of panic rose within her, whispering of delusions and reminding her that humans didn't have magic of any kind. It was folly.

Seren shook her head, though it only pushed the hysteria to the back of her mind. Maybe Tellis was right: she'd lose her mind in this forest. She couldn't let that happen. Pushing off of the tree, Seren surveyed her surroundings with a critical eye.

The path ahead loomed dark and foreboding and she saw the beginnings of a spider's web. Nothing disturbed the trees for quite some distance. However, she still thought it best not to disturb the sticky white strands.

A path of branches at varying levels offered a way over. She gathered her resolve and turned to face her tree again. Gripping the trunk, she spent a few moments settling her nerves. Drawing one last breath before setting a foot on the base, she pushed up the tree's length. Bark bit into her hands as they found purchase but she allowed only the smallest flinch and kicked off from the tree, crossing to another and planting her feet on a branch. Allowing her momentum to press her to the trunk and using the kinetic return to begin her next leap, she swung an arm out, kicking off again and returning to the tree she started from before repeating the move.

Steadily she made her way up, bouncing between trees and paused when she reached an area high enough above the webs. The air was a little clearer and she heaved great drags of it as her body calmed from the exertion. The tree in which she stood swayed and she felt for it, letting its roots tell her about the path she needed to travel even as part of her mind began to chide her for listening. Her destination was many miles away yet but she could almost see the line she had to follow clearly.

Branches, trees and vines spread before her and some of them seemed twined together purposely, straddling distances where the trees didn't overlap well. At this height, the trunks of these trees bore evidence of forced shaping, though the lower trunks were plain.

Seren grinned. "Follow the yellow brick road, Dorothy."

She shook her arms to rid them of a case of nerves and darted along her branch and leapt the distance to the tree ahead. A cry of joy almost tore from her as she vaulted with greater ease than she expected, though she wobbled a little for balance when she landed.

The fat limb of the tree rose directly up and out, allowing her to run along it and similarly to another branch on another tree. She cleared the distance again and continued her pace. A larger tree stood in her way next but a vine hung in the space separating her from it. When she lunged and her hands closed around the vine, she was dipped toward the left around the grand old oak and a firm arching limb stood out from the tree's far side. The vine swung right up to it. She released it and resumed her momentum, spotting the next set of strangely twined together vine and branches, marked by more formations in the higher trunks.

Every touch left a note of memory from the forest in her mind and she followed the path in the canopy the elves had left. Feeling more confident in herself, she spared a thought for Thranduil, Bard and the others, hoping they were alright and wondering if the king had chosen to follow or stay behind to help the town of the Long Lake. It didn't matter, really. She had one objective; whatever the king chose to do, it wasn't for her to worry about now. Legolas had to be warned of the Easterlings' incoming attack. A part of her wondered what he and her other friends, Varis, Nuineri and Ceridwen were up to this very moment. With that in mind, she focused her thoughts ahead.

* * *

"Gone."

Thranduil absorbed the news stoically. He had expected this answer but it was still disappointing to hear.

"Smaug's heart appears to have been taken from the lake," Bard explained before attempting to leave the boat in which he stood. He and an elvish scout had just returned to the shore, meeting the elvenking with the unsettling news.

The high elf's features were pinched as he waited and watched. He cast a disgusted look at the long spear Bard had used to poke around the dragon's remains as it was dropped to the ground.

"We must return to the kingdom at once, my lord!" Tellis insisted for the second time that morning.

Much as the king wished to do just that, he knew they'd never pass the horde encroaching on his kingdom. A path existed that would allow a clandestine entry but not until the Easterlings passed the point at which it joined the river and that was nearly on the doorstep of his halls. They would have to wait.

Thranduil slowly turned and his expression was stony. "Our numbers are too few to be of use. If the men of Esgaroth join us –"

"They will," Bard insisted immediately. "But first, we must free them."

Thranduil drew in a long breath. "A few hundred coming up against the Easterlings from the south will have much better odds than the two dozen we have now."

His retinue had been thirty-six strong, not counting himself and Seren. After the capture of Nuinethir, Eleros, the six he'd taken into the keep, Caireann and four others; if he included himself, he had just twenty-four to make any kind of assault and six of those were still wounded though they insisted they were fit enough to fight in some capacity. Adding Bard made twenty-five. They needed better numbers for a flanking attempt on the Easterlings to have any hope of succeeding.

Tellis swallowed and said nothing more about returning home, resignation drawing his sharp features into a pinched countenance. Ever the loyal servant, he offered his input about the town on the lake. "We have no information on what the situation in Esgaroth is. Our scouts report that it seems utterly still."

"By now, the intruders have had time to round everyone up," Bard supplied. "The last we saw, people were barred into the homes closest to the city square. I would guess many were taken to the main hall."

"That is likely," Thranduil said. "Given the time, the Easterlings will take as many as possible. The slave trade is a primary source of wealth between the tribe nations."

"If they have boats, we may already be too late for some of them," Tellis replied. "The river widens not far south of the lake."

Thranduil tried not to think about what that meant for Caireann and those taken directly south from the camp. He called for his foremost scouts and organized everyone into four groups, placing himself and bard at the head of their own parties. One group was assigned to cross the lake from the south and another from the north.

When he declared his own would enter the front gate, Tellis objected. "My lord? You cannot be serious!"

Bard watched them for a moment and Thranduil steadfastly ignored the gaze. "You hope to draw the most attention and give the rest of us a chance to begin freeing the town," he said. "Why take such a risk yourself?"

Thranduil continued as if his neither had spoken. "The final group will wait at the edge of the forest near the gate. They will deal with any runners intended to gather reinforcements and to guide survivors fleeing back to our camp."

Bard sighed heavily. "Nineteen to assault a taken city and six to hold its borders…"

"It is the town hall I am most concerned about taking. The city is sparsely defended. We must draw them from the Keep. Make yourselves ready." The elvenking turned from them, ending any further debate.

He set himself to the task of making what preparations he could; though without his armor or his sword, confronting the front gate was likely a doomed course. He paused as he lifted the satchel Seren had left him, a slight tremor shaking his hands. It was the one way he knew he could draw the most attention and every advantage was needed if they were to succeed.

The woven bag fell open at his slightest tug and he peered inside, smiling when a small elvish blade glinted at him. He pulled the sheathed dagger out and freed it from the scabbard. He recognized it as the gift Caireann had given Seren in recognition of bringing Haavelas home. The blade glinted in the sun as he appraised it.

Tellis strode over suddenly intrigued. "That is Seren's…"

Thranduil placed the dagger back into its sheath and began fastening it to his right boot. "Yes."

"I do not understand. If she was already armed, why leave it behind? I insisted she take the blade I gave with her into Esgaroth."

"And she accepted," Thranduil replied as he stood to his full height again. "You would have done more to prevent her leaving if she continued to refuse."

Tellis blinked, his brow creasing in confusion. "She is a runner. Out in the open like this, my objection was symbolic at best."

Thranduil smirked. "One must know when it is better to yield."

Tellis said nothing to that a thoughtful frown upon his tan features.

Bard joined the advisor before Thranduil and met his gaze without hesitation. "Thank you, my lord."

Thranduil nodded once. "I will accept that when we have succeeded."

"What of our home?" Tellis asked wretchedly, lacing his hands together and then pulling them apart before crossing his arms.

Thranduil stared off in the direction Seren had gone. "Whether or not Legolas receives warning in time is out of our hands and we cannot much help our kin as we are."

Doubt swirled in Tellis's eyes and a retort hovered on his tongue but he held it back and bowed before turning to address his group.

Thranduil and Bard watched him go.

"I do not take him for a coward," Bard said.

"He put down sword and shield centuries ago," Thranduil replied. "Now, he must recall skills long dormant."

Like him, Tellis had scars that weren't obvious. Thranduil only hoped he didn't get his advisor killed even as he knew that no single life mattered more than another. Tellis didn't deserve to die this day.

"You're worried for him," Bard observed.

Thranduil drew in a breath. "He sacrificed much in a war that cost him everything and left him less than whole. He foreswore all calls to battle since. What I ask of him is no less than to accept oblivion as well as certain death, should his memories serve him too well."

Bard shook his head and studied the ground. "Elves are envied for their talents and abilities but to never rest unless the world ends or one's soul is destroyed… the requirements of immortality would not suit me."

Thranduil smiled faintly. "Now you understand why we consider human mortality a gift, my friend."

* * *

Legolas wandered past his father's throne and paused. Slowly, he turned back to gaze upon the heavy chair. For a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to claim it. The massive seat, perched high above the dais never felt like it could be his. In truth, he had no desire to rule the kingdom and the thought of trying the chair unsettled him. Of course he would accept the duty if his father perished and the crown fell to him, but he fervently hoped that never came to pass.

He shook off the sense of foreboding and resumed his walk. Every day since the king had left for Esgaroth, Legolas made it a point to walk the grounds and halls of his home. He much preferred to see for himself what the people needed rather than accept a second hand report.

His path brought him past the library and he dipped inside to see Varis at work arranging supplies for the next day's pupils. She looked up from her task and smiled, expecting him despite his silent entry.

"My lord, Legolas; how are you this day?"

He almost answered dismissively but thought better of it and took a seat across from the instructor. "The day feels… restless. I cannot help feeling I am waiting for something."

Varis turned concerned hazel eyes on him. "Have there been unsettling reports?"

Legolas shook his head. "All seems well. Perhaps I'm overanxious. My father's absence leaves me aware of my own shortcomings."

Varis offered him a pitying look and patted his shoulder as she passed him. "You are not like your father, that is true; but you did not have the same upbringing as he. It's not a failing to be a different ruler than he is."

Legolas allowed a small smile to lift the corners of his mouth. Though he was grateful for her sympathy and reassurance, he dare not speak of his darker doubts – they were his alone.

"My lord, Legolas!" Ceridwen rushed into the room, chest heavy slightly. She'd obviously been searching for him for a time. "There is something you must see!"

He stood immediately and went to her, following her from Varis's library classroom. They wove through the corridors and took the stairs to higher levels where many personal chambers were. As they crossed over the throne room, he began to suspect where they were heading. The final turn to the right made him certain and Seren's chamber door standing open confirmed their destination.

As if on cue, Ceridwen started explaining: "Menui came to me with an unusual item and I realized it was Seren's. When I returned with her to have it placed where it belonged, I saw… It isn't possible but I am certain…"

They strode through the doorway and Ceridwen led him directly to the little solarium. Legolas stopped a few paces before the entrance, staring at Seren's easel standing in the center of the little round room. It was only partially visible from the archway and he couldn't clearly make out the rough image. Ceridwen beckoned for him to approach the painting.

Suddenly hesitant, Legolas took only a step and stopped. "We shouldn't be intruding…"

Ceridwen began to pivot the easel and Legolas hurried forward. "Don't! Leave it where it is. We shouldn't be in here."

"My lord, please…" the healer implored.

Legolas sighed and shuffled around the painting uncomfortably. Ceridwen stepped aside and watched him. When he finally gazed upon the image, Legolas felt his mouth go dry and his heart thumped heavily in his chest. He blinked hard and glared at the healer.

"How can she have done this?"

Ceridwen shook her head. "I do not know, my lord. Only Seren has that answer."

Silence reigned for many moments before it was punctured by the faint peal of a horn. Legolas sprang into a run, reaching the hallway outside Seren's chambers before the much louder answering horn rang out.

He spared only a quick glance back at Ceridwen before sprinting toward the main hall. Distantly he heard the soft muffled thud of many stone doors in the mountain drawing closed. Several guards were converging on his father's throne when he reached it and a sentinel from the outer door was running across the chasm to the dais.

"What is it?" He demanded before coming to a stop at the foot of his father's seat.

"Word from the outer-most patrol: there is an interloper making haste toward our halls," the sentinel reported between heavy breaths. "The alarm was sounded immediately."

"Just the one?"

"It might be a spy or scout from a larger offense," the sentinel replied. "The message wasn't detailed."

Legolas addressed the nearest captain and commanded that all doors to the kingdom were to be barred and placed under watch. After appointing several to accompany him, he and his chosen guard made for the outer doors. By the time he reached the bridge outside, the remaining sentinels had more information.

"It's Seren," one of them said by way of greeting.

"The patrols sent word that she is running hard and disregarding all attempts to communicate, though there are no signs of a pursuer," said another. "She seems intent on arriving here without delay."

"What of my father and the retinue they departed with?" Legolas asked. They didn't have an answer. He gazed to the direction of Esgaroth, anxiously awaiting the faintest sign of Seren or the patrols.

Behind him, Ceridwen suddenly spoke: "How could she have come through the forest on her own?"

Doubt suddenly gripped the prince and he narrowed his gaze at the sentinels. "You're certain the patrols said it was her?"

"They are certain it is Seren and the message was genuine, my lord."

The tempo of rapid footfalls rose above the silence of the woods just beyond and Legolas hurried over the bridge. Heedless of potential danger, he rushed over southern hill and spotted the patrol in the distance. Ahead of them by a dozen yards was Seren, red hair flashing between the trees. She was flanked at a couple of yards by a pair of runners, hurrying to keep up. She glanced up the hill and her eyes widened when she saw him but she didn't slow her pace.

Seren's lungs burned and her chest felt too tight for her heart but she didn't dare stop now. The hill loomed, making her head swim a little and she loped up the shallower end, allowing gravity to slow her. She coasted down the other side and almost cried out to see the great blue stone doors of the Elven kingdom towering just ahead of her. Her legs, suddenly weak, buckled and she stumbled into a tree, wincing as her weight crushed her skin against the bark.

Legolas turned to follow her and was there immediately. He called for Ceridwen and slipped his arms around Seren's back for support mindful of how exhausted she seemed. Her skin was flushed red and her heart pounded against his arm with the ferocity of a stampede.

"Seren? Where are the others? What's happened?" he asked as they trekked back toward the bridge.

"Easterlings… sacked Lake Town…" She answered in a rush. She gulped for air and heat suffused her skin, sweat rushing to the surface. The world turned dizzyingly. "Some were taken… Caireann, Eleros and Nuinethir… king's going after them."

The news made Legolas's stomach churn and he clenched his jaw. He would send his father reinforcements. Doubtless he sent Seren back home to keep her safe, though it surprised him that she had obeyed the directive if Caireann and Nuinethir were in enemy hands.

Ceridwen met them at the end of the bridge and surveyed her patient as they shuffled back toward the stone doors in the mountainside.

Seren heaved in a great gasp of air to speak. "Legolas, the Eastern tribe is advancing on the Greenwood. They should arrive by nightfall." She huffed and pounded a fist against pressure in her sternum when her heart missed a beat. She should have spent a minimum of five minutes slowing down instead of stopping suddenly but now that she had, she'd never get back up to speed for a proper cool down – she was so weak and her vision greyed around the edges.

"I ran ahead of them… and cut through the forest."

Legolas stared meaningfully to his guards over Seren's head. "Begin preparations."

"Yes, my lord," they said in unison and bowed.

"I need her to be brought to the infirmary," Ceridwen announced.

Seren didn't protest as consciousness became more difficult to hold onto. Two guards took a place on each side and lent a supportive shoulder, guiding her away from the doors when they entered.

"Legolas… Your father thinks they have Smaug's blood; that it's why they took Esgaroth."

Legolas offered her a reassuring smile as she was led away. "Thank you. Rest now, Seren."


	25. On The Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas waits, Thranduil and Bard have plans and Caireann is tired of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm grateful to any who are still reading this. I do wish I could post more frequently than I do. Typically when I have time to write is on my days off but the muse takes some time to cajole back to me so I write a lot of crap and then edit it out before I'm happy with it. Since there's a lot going on and I want to do it justice, it took some time to get this out. Typically I have leftovers from which to begin the next chapter and this time is no exception. But the jumpstart I have this time is significant so I hope to be posting again this weekend. No promises though! ;) Thank you for your patience I hope you enjoy.

Thranduil stepped over the bodies of four Easterlings as he surveyed the area. He paused to wipe the blood from Seren's blade on a cooling leg. It had been a patrol left in place to watch the main gate. They'd immediately loosed their arrows and drawn their swords when he and his people approached. His bid to draw attention from the keep had been denied. The members of his group were returning to him after assessing the immediate vicinity and reporting no activity so they pressed further in.

They found the first evidence of what became of Lake Town's citizens soon after entering the outermost market. Men and women littered the sides of the streets, pushed out of the way after their throats were slashed and blood painted the wooden planks on which they walked. The dead were all older or infirm.

"The Eastern tribes do not take prisoners they cannot sell," said one of the king's warriors.

Another gritted his teeth and added, "Such disregard for the wise…"

"We will concern ourselves with them later," Thranduil stated flatly. He could not allow a moment's distraction.

He strode deeper into the market, looking around and listening for movement, ready to deflect any cowardly attacks from the shadows or shuttered windows. He was keenly aware of his armor's absence and it made him all the more alert. As they moved on and spread out again, they encountered Bard and his group not far from the smaller docks.

"Have you had much trouble advancing through the city?" the elvenking asked immediately.

Bard shook his head. "There was a patrol on the pier but we dealt with them." The bowman squinted at his surroundings. "I expected more resistance."

Thranduil hummed in agreement. The lack of confrontation was unsettling, though no one dared to offer conjecture about the reason for it.

For another hour they advanced and dealt with two more patrols but the city seemed deserted besides. When they neared the market proper, they found Tellis and his group. By their appearance, it seemed they had greater difficulty making their way from the far side of the city.

The advisor sported a bloody swath on his longcoat's left sleeve. It was neatly parted across the bicep and red, torn skin flashed through layers of silk and wool.

"How do you fare?" Thranduil demanded, eyes tracking the wound for a moment.

"Well enough." Tellis looked back toward the rest of his group. They were all splattered with blood and the stains were at least an hour old already.

"There is a small cargo ship on the eastern large docks," Tellis continued, "but it was not heavily guarded. We removed those who wandered too far on their own before battling the watch guards keeping the prisoners – most of whom are citizens of Esgaroth, though Nuinethir was among them."

The mention of his foremost Quickstrider banished the king's controlled demeanor. "Is he well?"

Tellis nodded. "He is, though he's incensed that some of our kin were removed to a camp nearby. By his reckoning, Eleros, Arvuil and Unngo still remain in the keep. I tasked him with escorting the lake men to safety. Many were still under the influence of the Easterlings' poison darts."

"Good."

Bard's smile was tight as pressure swelled in his chest to hear the good news. "Thank you, Tellis."

The tall, slender elf nodded again and called on his group to fall in line with the others and they resumed their progress to the Master's Keep.

The lightest of foot among the elves took to the rooftops and assessed the streets ahead. The perimeter of Town Square was crowded with tiny buildings where the offices of the city's delegates stood next to merchants wealthy enough to afford the leases. It was here, the elves above first spotted heavier activity and cast a low hollow whistle. The mild breeze almost took it away but Thranduil heard it and came to halt in a shaded alley, awaiting the scouts' return.

"The high market and commerce offices are being used as holding cells," one of the scouts said as soon as he stood before the king. "The buildings are full and guarded well."

Thranduil gazed down the wide main thoroughfare that led to the nearest docks. "No doubt they chose this location for convenience."

"I think we should assume that they will be expecting us," Bard said. He glanced around pensively. "The patrols we encountered would have had to report to someone by now. If they're not actively searching for us, they may not have the numbers to spare."

"It is more likely we will find a trap awaiting us," Thranduil added.

Bard nodded in allowance of that. "We must free my people if they're going to help us. Tolvaris may be waiting in ambush or strengthening his defenses. We will need better numbers regardless."

"The congested high market ensures we will draw attention and it is far too narrow should we need to retreat. We cannot free your people from there just yet." Tellis replied. "If we seize control of Tolvaris, he can be made to order their release."

Bard scowled. "With the opportunity we would give him to order my people free, he could just as easily order them executed."

Before the advisor could counter, Thranduil interjected. "Such an outcome is not unthinkable and we would find ourselves immediately surrounded. Tolvaris made it plain that elves are highly sought in the slave market. We cannot assume he will forfeit an opportunity to ship our people to his shores for the prestige it would bring him, even if it costs him the rest of his prisoners."

Tellis sighed in annoyance. "I simply do not see how we can free those in the market proper with the numbers we have now. We would be signing their execution order as surely as Tolvaris. We would not reach even half of them before they are slain."

"I have an idea for that." Bard grinned. "There's a smith just around the corner. The furnaces are still hot. There's a tree sap we collect that creates a noxious smoke when exposed to an open flame. It must be heated in a pot first or it's too sticky but once poured onto a fire, it fills the air like fog. It's not poisonous but it makes it difficult to breathe and irritates the eyes, nose and mouth."

"If we start with the holding furthest from the rest," Thranduil said, gazing upward at half a dozen thin ribbons of chimney smoke rising from the street ahead. "We can force them out and deal with the invaders when they emerge."

Bard's grin widened. "And they've already lit their fireplaces for us."

Thranduil considered the strategy at length before nodding.

The bowman turned and hurried toward the corner of their alley, careful to slow and peek around the edge of the building before rushing to the door of the smith just beyond. Elves took up defensive positions around him while he picked the lock. The remainder of Thranduil's group remained hidden between buildings and inside nearby porches.

The lock clicked open and everyone went inside save for six who were left to guard the shop from the shadows.

"Alright," Bard clapped his hands together and gazed around the smith's shelves of supplies. "Let's get to work."

 

* * *

 

 

Caireann listened to the man in the tent rummaging through a crate as she feigned sleep on the floor. His booted feet were so close he occasionally stood on her hair and she flattened her mouth to keep from wincing.

"Ah!" The man cried in delight.

Having found whatever he'd come in for, he turned to head out. That was when she chose to act. In between his steps, she slipped her bindings in front of his left foot and the man stumbled, losing his balance. Before he was all the way down, Caireann disentangled her bindings, rose over his back, took his head in her hands and twisted it violently at an unnatural angle. A series of unnatural cracks and pops echoed through her fingers and the man went limp.

Laseviir rose and eyed her work, scowling with disgust at the now dead man.

"Wake the other three," Caireann ordered him. She took a small blade from the man's belt and started slicing through the coils of rope around her ankles. When she was done with that, she carved Laseviir's bonds apart and handed him the knife. He in turn made short work of the rope on her wrists before bending to tend his own ankles.

Their kin, having slept off the poison for longer, awoke able to see well enough to tackle each other's bindings while Caireann and Laseviir hauled the dead man to a corner of the tent and hide him under sacks of goods. There were furs on the walls and Caireann cut several of them down, handing them out before raiding the crates for food that would keep well enough for the journey.

"We have no idea what is outside this tent," Laseviir said.

"Have you not been paying attention?" Caireann pointed above them. "It is daytime yet this tent hasn't felt any direct sunlight all morning. We stand in the shade of a tree, likely a forest. The sounds from the camp all come from these directions." She pivoted, waving her arm out in an arc toward the tent's flap.

She strode to the far corner of the little space and began undoing the ties keeping the woven walls together. In the gap beyond; a sliver of heavy forest, dappled with beams of sunlight pointing west, beckoned to them.

Laseviir grinned. "After you, captain."

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil gazed over the various rooftops where his archers were crouched, waiting for Bard and his team to begin. It was a sound plan to drive every occupant out of the shops with the irritating smoke made of tree sap. He had added his own alterations, of course. Now he hoped nothing unexpected occurred to jeopardize the success of their strategy.

A faint crashing noise drew his attention to the first target and Thranduil looked to see smoke rising from the chimney. Bard was hurrying away and on the building next door, one of his people was poised anxiously.

Sounds of coughing and yelling rose from the shop and a moment later the door swung open. Yellow tinged smoke billowed out and several humans emerged from the cloud. They immediately began running in different directions. Men in black and red armor grabbed some of them but the humans were released a moment later when arrows appeared in their captors' necks.

More surprised voices came from the next shop and smoke rose from its windows. Like the first, the door opened as if bursting with the people spilling through it. And like the first, the armor clad invaders never saw the elves across the street. Woodland style fletching fluttered around them as arrows found their soft marks unerringly. Thranduil smirked. The neck was a difficult place to protect adequately and the gap in the steel collar proved wide enough for the downward arrows. Any who survived the first shot were dealt a second under the jaw when they raised their head to look for the archers. They always looked for the archers.

Shrieks stabbed the air of the once quiet city as bodies dropped to the planks without warning and pooling blood made the wood slick. It was an understandable but unfortunate reaction. The third building was nearly empty of its occupants now but the fourth showed signs of stirring so Thranduil whistled low to his archers and the first two teams vaulted across the buildings to help their kin. The elf waiting with the smoke bomb was signaled to make her drop and the fifth and sixth just after that. The noise of the chaos rose over the city with the noxious smoke.

The street filled with people and the yellowish haze. As everyone tried to clear their eyes or get out of the smoke's range, the elven archers continued to pick off the Easterlings before they could even see their attackers clearly. It seemed an interminable amount of time passed before the smoke cleared and revealed every Easterling lying motionless. Many of the humans had fled to other parts of the city but Thranduil was pleased that this effort had gone well.

"That's all of them in this section," Bard said as he returned to the elvenking's side.

"Good. How many of your people do you think are accounted for?"

"The shops were densely packed and there were six of them… About a hundred – maybe one-twenty. I've spoken with a few of them and they will see to gathering everyone so we can better assess our losses. In the meantime, several who are fit to fight will join our advance to the Keep."

Thranduil nodded. "See that they are armed and prepared for what will come."

Bard nodded and joined his men and Tellis took his place. His features less pinched than they were earlier.

"The barge-man is resourceful. I regret my lack of faith in him."

Thranduil resisted a chuckle. "It is a lesson one must experience personally. When he felled Smaug with a single black arrow; I struggled to believe one human had done so without any aid."

"The corpse in the lake, however, is undeniable proof," Tellis replied.

"Indeed."

The taller elf became somber and he lowered his voice to not be overheard. "Do you believe Seren has reached our kingdom and warned the Prince of the incoming assault?"

Thranduil allowed himself a moment and though uncertainty flickered in his expression as his thoughts betrayed him, the feeling didn't take hold. "She would die trying, that I know without question."

Tellis readjusted his torso's posture haltingly. "That is precisely what I ask. She is only human and the forest is a dark and dangerous place."

"Seren is more than she seems."

"I do not mean to question you, my lord," Tellis pressed somewhat desperately.

"When I am ready, I will explain everything to you," Thranduil said levelly. It was a tone that would brook no argument.

His advisor nodded and strode away to organize his group.

Soon the new additions were accounted for and organized into groups. The party, now consisting of Thranduil's five, Bard's four and Tellis's four and thirteen men, made its way closer to the Keep.

As it had been all morning, there was little resistance. Twice a patrol slowed them but there was nothing to suggest an ambush when they reached the open square surrounding the Master's residence.

The last of the groups Thranduil had organized met up with them at Town Hall's steps just after midday. Nine additional men from Esgaroth were with them, as well as Eleros. The Quickstrider laughed in joy to see his kin and clasped the arms of several before pausing awkwardly before the king.

"My lord," he said somberly and performed a small bow.

Thranduil's eyes brightened at the sight of the elf, and then narrowed. "Eleros," he rumbled smoothly. "I am gratified you were eventually able to join us."

The humans around them registered varying degrees of scandal but Eleros, knowing his king's humor as he did, laughed.

The mischief in Thranduil's gaze and the faint pinch to his cheeks were all that gave him away yet the rest of the elves also smiled or chuckled.

"Forgive me. I was waylaid," Eleros said bashfully. "As were we all, so I'm told." This last was added with a meaningful glint in his steel gray eyes.

Finally Thranduil allowed a small smirk and offered an elvish salute. "It is good to see you."

Eleros nodded. "And what of Nuinethir? Caireann? And the others?"

Tellis spoke up, answering the runner's questions. From there, the discussion immediately turned toward the subject of how to take the Keep. Bard held up a key and suggested the side entrance again and then explained the building's layout. Ultimately the elvenking decided on splitting their forces in half. Any who still possessed armor would enter through the front. The other half would gain clandestine entry through Bard's door. Thranduil declared there would be no prisoners taken; a decree most of the men greeted cheerily.

Once the remaining details were discussed and agreed upon, their group was moving again. Thranduil was among those who would take the service entrance and Bard insisted on leading the group entering through the main door though his armor consisted of just a hardened leather vest.

The two groups parted ways and Thranduil strode toward the side entrance. The little door was easy enough to find, though it was locked. He pulled the key from his sleeve and it swung open silently a moment later.

The air that wafted out was stale and had a sharp tang. They were in a long narrow hallway, barely large enough for two abreast. Water could be heard lapping against a deck and at the end of the hallway, a wide staircase leading up came into view. To the left was a staircase winding down and light shimmered on the walls erratically.

"The Master's private dock," one of the men said disdainfully.

"This way," Thranduil replied and started up the staircase without waiting for acknowledgement. He smirked when he heard one of the humans murmur about his hair being pale enough to light the way.

 

* * *

 

 

Hurried footfalls echoed on the stone in the hall outside the infirmary and Ceridwen recognized them. She smiled faintly. Her visitor's haste was understandable.

"My lord, Legolas," she greeted him when he swept into the room. He was dressed in scale leather armor and a full quiver sat on his back, a bow in hand – ready for the coming battle.

The prince immediately looked at Seren's bed. The human was too pale and hadn't roused since exhaustion finally claimed her.

"How is she?" Legolas asked before meeting the healer's gaze. Worry churned in his belly, hot and acidic.

Ceridwen's smile was soft in the face of the prince's concern. "She will recover. She put herself under tremendous strain and her heart had some difficulty maintaining a proper rhythm, but she will be fine. I was able to calm it."

Legolas visibly relaxed at the news and then he noticed the tension in Ceridwen's shoulders and clasped hands. "What else is there?"

Ceridwen inhaled sharply and began to pace. "When she first arrived here, like her brother, she would not respond to healing magic. I used herbs and poultices to improve her health when she needed care but, despite her strange abilities, she seemed utterly human in every way. I thought the magic she was exhibiting was merely what she had been exposed to and was bleeding it off as a strange effect of her non-magic nature."

Legolas watched the other elf cross the long room and stop over her patient's bed.

"This time," Ceridwen continued, "I had no tonic, salve or mixture to return a human heart to a stable pattern. It had been over exerted for too long."

Legolas frowned. "But Seren has been a runner all her life. The journey from Esgaroth shouldn't have been so draining."

Ceridwen agreed with a nod. "Yet her heart stopped. There was nothing I could do but try and mend her myself." The healer gazed down at her hands as if surprised at what they had done. "You can imagine my surprise when she responded to me."

Legolas flattened his lips into a line. He had an almost certain inkling what she would say next.

"She doesn't feel human, Legolas… I felt the essence of Eldar, of _fea_ …"

Ceridwen carefully focused on the prince's face and found guilt there. Her hazel eyes narrowed. "You might have mentioned this. As a healer, I should be privy to every detail."

"The king is not sure what she is or how she came to be. He didn't wish to spread false information." A faint smile graced Legolas's features. "There are many mysteries surrounding Seren."

"In the future, I must insist you not keep even a wild conjecture about a potential patient from me."

Legolas frowned but with sympathy. "I cannot promise that."

Ceridwen sighed unhappily but didn't push the matter. "How long do we have before the Easterlings arrive?"

The mention of the approaching army soured the mood considerably. "They will be here by sunset. Our southern scouts reported back an hour ago. The enemy is close now." He looked over at Seren. "I will send a guard contingent for your ward. Keep her safe."

The healer nodded and he turned to leave. "There are some last minute preparations I must see to."

He cast one more glance at Seren.

"As soon as she wakes, I'll send word," Ceridwen promised.

She watched him go and stared into the empty space he'd left for a time. A soft swell of light, shifting silver white and blue in color, broke her reverie; but when she turned around, nothing seemed out of place.


	26. Echoes Of The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voices of the past can echo where you least expect them.

Thranduil had traversed half of the dark staircase when raised voices echoed dimly from below. He immediately recognized the voices of Arvuil and Unngo and stopped. In the humid air, he could hear every breath being drawn around him as his group waited.

"What is it, my lord?" Tellis asked.

Thranduil held up a hand and strained to hear. Faint grunts and slightly louder thumps reached his ears, followed by small splashes of displaced water. It sounded like a boat bobbing on the lake. He knew Bard would wait as long as he was able and wondered if he could spare the time to go after his kin. He was less than certain he could retrieve any who had been sent south to the Easterling's camp, a location he had yet to discover. The fewer he lost to begin with, the better and these two were not yet out of reach.

Abruptly the king descended the stairs, breezing past his party and rounding a corner out of sight. Tellis and the rest of the elves wasted no time following him and thus the humans also went after the elvenking.

 

* * *

 

 

At the main entrance to the Keep, Bard tried the door and wasn't surprised when it didn't move.

"It's bolted."

He nodded to Eleros and he in turn gestured for three more of his kin to follow. They went to the tall window set high above their heads and made short work of scaling the wall and slipping the window's latch. Eleros launched himself into the room, soundlessly rolling onto the carpet. He stilled all movement and listened for an indication that he had been heard but no sign of alarm was raised. Somewhere in the Keep the voices of men laughed. Eleros flinched as sudden anger began to burn in his chest.

Satisfied no one had detected his entry; he went back to the window and beckoned his kinsmen inside. The door leading from the room was closed and Eleros peered through a tiny crack to the hallway beyond. One man patrolled the corridor, meandering slowly. He sometimes stopped out of sight at the far end and asked if it was his turn to play a hand.

When the man passed the door again, Eleros quickly and silently swung it open and pressed his kin back and then palmed a small blade. They retreated into the room and held themselves against the wall, waiting. The guard stopped to regard the open door and the elves could see his shadow tilt its head.

Slowly he stepped into the entryway and then hurried to look behind the door, putting his back to Eleros. The elf slipped up behind him, clamped a hand around his mouth and punctured the soft area of his neck where his pulse throbbed. The man howled in pain into Eleros's palm. Blood sprayed the wall and a red river gushed steadily down the man's front. The Quickstrider hauled him backwards to set him down in the corner, out of sight of the door. He was dead before they reached the shadows.

The rest of the elves picked the body of all weapons, scrolls, and any other items of use before finally heading out to the hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

Thranduil stopped just before the staircase opened onto the dock when firelight danced in a shifting cascade over the doorway. He waited for it to subside before peering around the wall. In the cavern beyond, a wide short platform spread out before him, piled with crates. Two longboats were tethered to it. The boats were for transporting crates from larger ships to smaller docks and the elves were sat in the middle of the humans crammed into the vessels. More humans stood on the dock, their wrists and ankles were tightly bound and they were lashed together in a line. Four Easterlings stood sentinel over the passengers in each boat while ten guarded the proceedings and two patrolled the dock with a torch in hand.

Thranduil looked back to his group to confer upon the situation.

"How well does sound travel to the Keep?"

One of the men scoffed. "It doesn't. The cavern is too large and there is a level beneath the floor where heavy arms are stored. Between that and the insulation, the only sound that might be heard through the floor is a ship crashing into the dock."

"That is favorable, indeed," Tellis replied hopefully.

The odds of freeing their people without casualties were less favorable. No one seemed to find that a problem as they all wanted a chance to finally strike back at the invading tribesmen and they all asserted that their people would rather die fighting than be carted off as slaves.

The king sent four of his kin out first and they used crates for cover until they each had a chance to make a silent dash for a support beam and scaled the pillars, disappearing into the pitch black rafters. Humans armed with swords were paired with elves armed with bows and they went out next, tucking behind the same crates the others had.

The Easterlings continued loading people into the boats, occasionally shoving someone or threatening to slash a throat. At times they would stop and scrutinize the dock. Thranduil knew they would have to act soon.

When he was satisfied with the area his people now covered, he stepped through the doorway. Once the occupants of the boat noticed him, eyes going round, he cleared his throat. All activity on the dock halted. The Easterlings gawked for a moment but recovered quickly.

They dove into defensive positions and brandished their weapons. "Stay where you are!"

"I have no intention of leaving," Thranduil said smoothly.

The black clad men exchanged glances and gazed around suspiciously.

"He can't have come alone! Check the dock!"

"By all means," Thranduil replied, gesturing amiably.

The approaching men hesitated and stared back at their leader.

"What do you want?" The man in charge asked.

"Your life," Thranduil said without missing a beat. "Their lives," he nodded toward the Easterlings assembled, "And the freedom of the people you are attempting to capture." The mention of this sent ripples of whispers and furtive glances between the bound would-be slaves.

The entire dock went silent save for the sound of the water. Then the leader barked with laughter and his brothers joined him.

While they chuckled, the king stared across the distance to his captured kin and bored them with a meaningful stare.

"Return to me."

Movement exploded from Unngo's and Arvuil's boat as they shoved the distracted Easterlings standing before them into the black icy water. A half second later, the captives in the second boat followed suit. Arrows rained from the shadows above and more eastern men fell to the planks. Men and elves erupted up over crates, taking down opponents before they could nock their own volley of arrows and an immediate dog fight ensued.

Though bound, most of the people of Esgaroth made the leap from the boats to the docks and those who didn't were assisted by the rest. They scrambled for blades and hastily cut their bonds. Most fled to the staircase but some took up a discarded weapon and joined the fight. The leader spun around in shock and stumbled back before remembering who was behind him. He pivoted again only to dart away from a swipe made by Tellis.

Thranduil spotted an Easterling clinging to the outside of a boat, aiming his bow toward the advisor. He dove between the arrow and its target, cutting it from the air before it could strike Tellis in the back. Seeing this, one of his archers pinned the man's arm down with an arrow and another elf hopped into the boat to separate the man's head from his shoulders.

The whirlwind of battle swallowed the king whole and he danced from blade to blade, shifting his weight for a stab and then pushing away to slash at someone new, never remaining in place long enough to be struck. Movement was much easier without his armor but he would have preferred to have it as his only defense now was to not be wounded. The weapon he held was an elvish short sword and though it was very elegant, he found its balance wasn't as keen as he liked. The hilt was shorter and lighter than he was accustomed to and the overall length was just short enough to require he rethink his reach. The blade was wider, clumsier and his offensives required more consideration instead of being executed as but a mere thought of his own movement. It wasn't _his_ blade. It was still adequate, however.

He had just pushed a heavily armored and large opponent off of his weapon when a pained yelp drew his attention to the far side of the dock. There he saw one of his archers, falling to his knees. Most of those who had been wounded from the previous battle at camp were given a bow and ordered to provide ranged coverage to keep them from harm's way and from being a hindrance but now, the archer was cradling a wound in his chest, trying to halt the spread of crimson. Thranduil gazed past him to see a black armored man behind him, wiping his blade. Their eyes met and the pale angular face smirked before disappearing into the shadows.

"No…" Thranduil hurried across the deck to his fallen warrior, dropping his blade as he caught the wounded elf. He was already pale from blood loss.

"My king," was all he was able to say through the red froth on his lips before going still.

Thranduil shook as he lowered him to the dock and arranged his body neatly. A warning suddenly pulled the back of his neck tight and he had to roll away from his blade to avoid a downward strike as his kin's murderer landed from the rafters. He tumbled upright and reached for his right leg, sliding Seren's long dagger free of his boot.

The pale metal rang out with a beautiful high note as it was whipped through the air and connected with his enemy's long sword. Though it was shorter than the sword he'd abandoned, it was slender and denser like his own blade, the hilt longer and heavier, the weight balance more familiar. Delighted, Thranduil snarled and hastened his movements.

When he parried the man couldn't predict his next swing and the elvenking shifted around him, cutting him but not delivering a fatal blow just yet. Thranduil allowed the man to begin to know he was being toyed with, that he was being allowed to live for a just a few moments more and anticipate his death.

When the soldier grew desperate enough to lunge carelessly, Thranduil spun away from his blade and returned with Seren's under his enemy's plate at the small of his back. He dug the weapon into the man's flesh, wincing when he screamed, and severed his spine before kicking him off the dock. The weight of his armor and his useless legs dragged him under the surface, never to return.

Thranduil returned his attention the main battle, dismayed at the sight. Blood painted the deck with slick and everywhere Easterlings were falling, though humans could also be spotted here and there among the bodies. The archer he'd avenged wasn't the only one of his kin to fall, however. Unngo lay among the dead. Another elf, a young warrior barely into adulthood, lay at the center of a circle of dead Easterlings. Tellis favored his side as he danced with another and a sash of red decorated the right side of his waist.

Thranduil strode over to them and took Tellis's place, making quick work of the man when he stabbed him in the throat. The dead man was still falling to the deck when he turned away.

Tellis sat on a crate and watched the various scuffles going on around them while his king assessed the wound in his side.

"I do not see the color of Dragon's Heart in the wound."

Tellis nodded. "It is merely a cut, my lord – several stitches should be all I require." The tall elf, breathed heavily and the shock-induced waxy sheen of sweat appeared.

The king straightened and went to the staircase where non essentials had been left before the battle began. Most of the women and children had remained there. Many likely had husbands, sons or brothers who chose to fight, he realized. Some tried to ask questions but he held up a hand and plucked the satchel Seren had given him from a woman who had been rummaging through it. A moment later she followed him back into the cavern.

He surveyed the remnants of the fighting as he returned to Tellis. The last of the Easterlings offered to surrender but neither human nor elf accepted it and the final weapon strikes left the last of their opponents dead on the dock.

Tellis groaned when he was gently pushed onto his side and Thranduil pulled his over coat open to get a better look at the gash through the white shirt. He pulled linen bandages from the satchel and found a flask of Ceridwen's healing balm.

"It is very deep. You will need a healer for this," Thranduil said as he cleaned the wound.

"Allow me," the human woman offered. "As a healer of Esgaroth, I have experience with closing cuts such as this."

Thranduil studied her for a moment. She was young and kindly in appearance, skin the color of bronze, large almond shaped golden hazel eyes and jet black hair. He could see no guile in her. Finally he nodded and stepped aside. She went to work, cleansing a needle and preparing sutures so he left her to stitch Tellis's wound while he spoke to Arvuil and the rest of his kin.

Humans were drifting in from the staircase, calling for loved ones and the echoes of happy cries mixed with those of grief when the body of a friend was found.

"My lord, Thranduil," Arvuil said, formally and bowed.

The king took a moment to count the wounded before acknowledging the archer. There were twenty-three. "Gather any wounded who can walk and leave a guard for those who cannot. Nuinethir waits near the main gate on land with other wounded. Have him send any who are hale enough to help move those who need assistance.

Arvuil nodded curtly and bowed again but he hesitated before doing as he was bid. "Thank you, my lord, for coming for us."

Thranduil blinked and then nodded, watching the elf go.

There were far more left unwounded and his people gathered with the ever increasing numbers of Lake Town men. He now had a group forty strong. After deciding who would continue with him into the Keep, he returned to Tellis, pleased to see the advisor was looking better and the healer nearly finished with her stitches.

"He is in no state to fight, King Thranduil," she told him. "I'd rather he not walk for a couple of days to allow the muscle some time to knit properly."

Tellis shot her a glare. "I can still aid you, my lord."

Thranduil smiled faintly. "You will go with the injured to meet with Nuinethir. This is my command, old friend."

The tone was kind but held a note of authority. Tellis subsided and nodded minutely, "As you wish, my lord."

Now that he had given his orders, there was nothing keeping him from returning to the Keep, though he loathed leaving any of his kin behind. He beckoned those who were accompanying him and they all fell into formation behind him as he once again took to the stairs.

 

* * *

 

 

Eleros left his kin to open the main door and instead crept down the hall, careful to survey all other arches and doors. The closer he drew to the last room, the more his focused narrowed and his pulse rushed in his ears. Light spilled into the hallway behind him as the main door was opened to Bard and the others but it was like an afterthought to him.

He raised his long sword almost unable to see past the red of his mounting rage. The presence of three of his kin behind him registered, two of whom had bows.

They took a moment to assess the position of the occupants, counting three men in total and then swept into the small space. The archers shot a wide swath of several arrows apiece, hitting the two Easterlings who had been standing. Twin yelps of surprise responded to the assault. The third man rose up from a table laid with cards when his fellows flew back into the wall. His shout of alarm died with a gurgle as an arrow found the hollow of his throat. Eleros rushed in to tackle one of the others as he stumbled away from the wall before he could yell, running him through up under the ribs before the daze wore off. Blood fountained out of his wound at a fatal rate. The remaining Easterling let loose a loud growl and ran to meet them and was quickly cut down.

Bard waited as the elves swiftly and silently assessed the remaining rooms and sent others peek into the central chamber. An occasional footstep from above alerted him to the second floor.

Eleros rejoined him as he finished an estimated count of occupants on the floor above.

"The Master's alive," Bard murmured low with a wry grin. "The sound of his gait is unmistakable."

Eleros nodded. "How many are in there?" He nodded toward the central chamber.

Bard grew solemn. "A few hundred of my people occupy the main hall. Avoiding casualties will be difficult in such a crowded space."

"We cannot afford to lose," the runner reminded him. "If you want the tribesmen driven from your home, worry less about casualties and more about succeeding."

After a tense moment, Bard nodded. "If we are going to succeed, we need the king and the people following him. There are dozens of Easterlings – of those we could see. There may be more."

"It is possible he was delayed," Eleros said. "We cannot simply wait. It is past midday and it is winter. We will lose the sun in a few hours."

He turned away from the bargeman and stalked to the end of the corridor where the door to the kitchen stood. At the back of the room, in a corner, was another door, leading down to the hidden docks. He took a torch from the wall and the elves immediately began the journey down.

They had reached the platform to the outer door when Eleros made them stop. He listened for a moment before grinning broadly and resuming his descent, almost running this time.

Bard kept after him as best he could on the steps but still lost sight of the elf. Shortly after, the sound of joyous greetings reached him and when he rounded a final corner, he found the runner finishing a bow in front of Thranduil.

"We thought you may be in need of rescue, king Thranduil," Bard teased and then offered an elvish salute.

"That will not be necessary," the king said imperiously and strode past him.

"Where is Tellis?" Eleros asked after him.

Thranduil stopped. "He is wounded and cannot fight further so I ordered him to return with Arvuil to Nuinethir."

"Arvuil lives? What of Unngo?"

Thranduil's eyes fluttered down a fraction, not truly seeing anyone. "We have our casualties, as do the humans. We will focus on those we lost later."

Eleros didn't press for a clearer answer – he didn't need to. His head bowed as he continued up the steps after his king.

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you think our camp is still in place?"

How Laseviir could continue his line of questions was beyond Caireann. She preferred the journey to pass in silence and the stream of questions was beginning to wear on her patience.

They'd slipped from the camp where the Easterlings had taken them and once they had their bearings, they made their way north west. For the first mile or so, remaining unseen had been a challenge as the tribesmen patrolled the forest beyond their camp. Having seen none of the intruders for some time now, she and her kin picked up their pace in hopes of reaching their camp by nightfall – _if_ the camp was still there. The warrior was ever watchful for signs of messengers from the city, however.

"There is no way to know what the situation is in Esgaroth," Caireann replied. "When we were taken, our camp was under attack and the city appeared under siege as well. It is likely the king took our people home and returned with reinforcements."

"Then why are we returning to Esgaroth?" The young warrior to ask this was Fariel, one of her trainees; though he had long since completed her instructions to satisfaction. He and his training partner Annuil watched her intently for her reply as they traversed the hilly terrain.

She glanced fondly at them now. "To be of use, if the king needs us."

For the first time, since they left; Lithia, an archer like Laseviir, spoke. "Do you not think the king would have come for us, Caireann?"

For several long minutes, she considered her answer and they crested a hill that led steeply down before she gave it. "King Thranduil has to keep the good of our entire kingdom in mind. Our lives, dear as they are to him, cannot take precedence over the good of our people."

She stalked up the next hill, heaving a little to breathe. "No, I do not think he would have come for us."

Lithia frowned and cast a glance at Laseviir.

"The Long Lake!" Fariel declared.

Caireann peered in the direction he pointed as saw hints of a wide open space through the trees. The late afternoon sun danced off the water in golden sparks. She breathed deeply and renewed her pace, eager to put the Easterlings behind her and see her friends again.

 

* * *

 

 

Seren twisted away from the noise as several voices rose to full volume, accompanied by rushed footsteps. Clinking glass, crumbling dry herbs and bandages being cut filled the air with sound.

"Over here," she heard Ceridwen say and realized she was in the infirmary.

The healer was directing the placement of other patients and a sense of urgency permeated the air. Shouting and clanging metal could dimly be heard some distance away. An occasional muffled boom resounded through the halls. It seemed to be coming from the direction of the main hall.

Seren opened her eyes and pushed herself upright, trying to drag her body to full wakefulness. She sat on her bed watching the hurried activity of the room around her. Several elves lay on the beds bleeding from arrows and sword wounds. Some were strangely pale and sunken looking, despite having minor enough wounds to survive without healing.

One warrior in particular no longer responded to his pain but simply laid there, his chest barely rising. He was faded in a way that reminded Seren of Haavelas's death and his skin was streaked with jagged red lines that seemed to smolder within his flesh. An attendant came to the man's side and stroked his strawberry honey colored hair, though it had lost its luster and he smiled before going entirely still.

The attendant sobbed as she closed his eyes and caressed his sunken, grayish cheeks. Moments later, the body began to collapse into itself. The red markings grew brighter until they were nearly orange and expanded. As they swelled, pale light in his skin coalesced until it beamed. The glowing lines advanced over the luminance, consuming it until they shone golden. As the light began to dim, disappearing into the lines of fire, they shrank turning the skin around them a darker shade of grey until it resembled charcoal. Faint smoke drifted up from the dead elf and it was strangely odorless. Fine lines appeared in the skin, deepening into cracks and it started flaking apart like ash. The body soon resembled little more than a pile of fine embers. The flakes broke into even smaller pieces and drifted up on the air only to shrivel into nothing. A few minutes later, a soot stain was all that remained of the elf who had lain there.

Seren hadn't noticed her tears until Ceridwen stepped into view and dabbed at her face. She took the cloth from the healer, trying not to crack.

"What was that?"

"That is the fate waiting anyone wounded with the heart blood of a dragon. The younger one is, the quicker and more merciful their death."

Seren blinked. "The king told me what it does, but I never imagined what it would look like. He was reduced to nothing… not even a body to be buried."

"There will be more before the night is over." Ceridwen wiped at her own face and breathed. She tucked some loosened strands of hair behind her ears.

"How long ago did the battle begin?"

Ceridwen checked Seren's vital signs as she considered her reply. "The first wave arrived just before the sun set. That was about an hour ago." She released her patient's wrist and produced a small cup of something earthy for Seren to drink. "How are you? I expected you to sleep for some time yet."

"I feel tired," Seren admitted. She placed the cup in the healer's hands and sat up straighter. "But I doubt I could sleep right now."

The elf studied her for a moment before handing her a list. "In that case, I could use your bed. I need these items from the kitchens. Would you get them?"

Seren nodded and stood slowly to stave off dizziness before navigating the busy room. She was thankful when she reached the hall just beyond and breathed deeply of the cooler air. For several moments she felt weak and too exhausted to move. When she gathered her strength, she began her trek to Nuineri's kitchen but halted when she came upon a beam of moonlight streaming into the hall from a small high window.

The cool bluish silver light felt like fresh water over a burn. She stood in it and closed her eyes, letting it soothe her. Tension drained from her weak limbs and she relaxed. Gradually she felt a little bit stronger and she shook off the last of her sleep before resuming her stride with renewed vigor.

Nuineri's kitchen was abandoned and the tidy appearance of it told Seren that it hadn't been used yet that day. She sighed sadly and started rummaging for the herb flasks she'd been sent to collect. The few food stocks on the list were placed in one basket and the flasks in another.

Once she had the entire list accounted for, she turned to make the journey back to the infirmary when a child's low hum caught her attention. She set the baskets down again and slowly crept to a cupboard under a table by the rear wall and called out.

"Menui?"

The humming continued and the tune was one Seren thought she could almost recognize.

"Menui?"

Still the girl did not reply but her lovely voice continued to drift from the cupboard. Not wishing to frighten the youngster, Seren knelt and gently tapped on the door. The humming stopped.

"Menui?"

"Seren?"

The cabinet door burst open and the girl bowled Seren onto her rear and hugged her around the neck.

"What are you doing here?"

"Mother isn't in our chambers and I didn't want to be alone but I thought I heard bad men and I couldn't go any further so I hid!"

The child sobbed into Seren's neck and she stroked the long silken strands of golden hair. "It's alright. I'm here now. We can go to the infirmary together. How does that sound?"

Menui nodded and slowly pulled back. A square of glaring white light appeared in her hands and Seren reached for it. She stared in shock at the little rectangular device, earphones dangling from her hand. It was startlingly out of place and it seemed as alien to her as it was familiar.

"Taliesin's music player…"

Floods of memories swam through her thoughts and her hand trembled.

"I'm sorry Seren. I just wanted to see your painting and then I saw a strange bag and when I picked it up, this really pretty music started playing," Menui said in a rush. "I didn't mean to take it! And, and I was going to return it, I swear!"

Seren shook herself from her thoughts, eyes glassy and she smiled. "It's alright. No harm done." She hugged Menui to show her she wasn't angry with her. She gazed at the title on the screen and her heart clenched. The song was from the playlist with her name on it and it was one of her favorite violin pieces.

"I'd forgotten all about Taliesin's bag." In truth she had shoved it under her bed, never to be seen again. Menui must have hidden there and found her brother's satchel.

It felt strange to scroll through the digital catalogue and she clumsily swiped at the touch screen to bring up the list of songs and found what she was looking for.

"This is one of my favorites."

"Play it!" Menui picked up the earphones and handed one to Seren, before crawling into her lap.

For a few minutes Seren was back home, painting and expecting Taliesin to poke his head into her room at any moment. The song was called "Crystalline" and, while there were no lyrics; there was a vocal track amidst the ethereal strains.

"It's a pretty song," Menui said when it ended. "I would like to hear it again."

She held the music player out to Menui. "Here."

The child's eyes lit up. "I can keep it?" She took it gingerly and stared at Seren with awe.

Seren smiled, though a part of her wanted to reach for the player and never let it go. "It won't last forever, Menui." She pointed to the battery indicator. It had thirty percent of its power left. "When this turns red and falls to zero, it will not play music anymore and will go dark."

Menui frowned in confusion. "But you can make it work again, can't you?"

Seren shook her head somberly. "No. I wish I could. It requires electricity and I have no way to charge it here. Once it runs out of power, it will never play again."

"Oh," Menui said sadly, looking at the device.

"Come on. We must get back to Ceridwen. She's expecting these supplies."

Together they stood and Seren once again grabbed her baskets. Menui hurried to an empty sack hanging on the wall and frantically stuffed what bread, fruit and food stuffs that would transport easily and took Seren's hand as they started the long walk back.


	27. First Wave Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight for survival begins to incur mounting costs and all will struggle with the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I thank you all for bearing with my slow pace and for reading and leaving your thoughts. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I will be hard at writing up the next one over the coming weeks. =)

Bard dared not breathe in the heavy silence as everyone around him moved carefully into position. The very air weighed oppressively on him. He thanked whatever fates were watching for the luck that had been with them up to this point and hoped it remained into the evening. They would surely need it.

The skirmish with the hallway guards had gone unnoticed as the elves had taken them out quietly, efficiently and no swords had been crossed. The battle on the dock below hadn't caught any attention either, for too well insulated had the Master planned the town hall. All that remained now was to make the most of their entry into the main hall to minimize casualties but they wouldn't be avoided entirely.

The Easterlings, content to believe they had secured the Keep and the city and that the elves had either been captured or retreated, didn't seem overly concerned with the possibility of intruders now. They lounged and played cards, laughing and drinking long into the afternoon.

The main hall was packed with citizens from Lake Town but most seemed subdued, possibly drugged. The guards keeping the room secured numbered in the thirties as far as could be ascertained with a limited view within.

King Thranduil sent eight elves to scale the roof outside. The high windows offered additional entries and would help serve as a diversion. A small group of men and elves stood behind a service door from the kitchen to the hall, waiting for their cue to enter. The central door and two side doors were similarly occupied. Six elves and ten men were lining the staircase leading to the Master's chambers, waiting to deal with anyone who responded to the noise below. Once word was received from Eleros that everyone was in position, they would free the rest of Esgaroth's people or die trying.

Bard thought of his children. He was glad they were in Dale. At first he'd worried for them over the slim forces left there and limited food. Now he was glad they were far from this and he didn't have to worry for their safety while the battle played out. This time, he felt ready more than panicked. Of course, the enemy this time was an army of men instead of a dragon.

Thranduil moved suddenly, looking upward, having heard something no one else could hear. "It is time."

Bard swallowed as an elf reached for the door he stood behind and another raised a horn. Its thin peal shattered the quiet of the approaching evening, and ushered pandemonium in its place. Elves and men poured into the main hall, coming face to face with armored Easterlings who were hurrying to get to their feet and find their bearings. Crashing glass overhead delayed their reaction as they looked toward the new threat. The archers above pelted their targets but several of the more armored Easterlings were taken out by arrows under the chin from bows among those on the floor.

Bard smirked to see the elvenking's favored strategy was still as effective as ever.

The lake people instantly rose, screaming in all directions. Some crawled sluggishly, barely getting out of the way and some ran off in blind panic. Some were unfortunate enough to be hit with an arrow or split open on a blade. Still the majority managed to clear enough of the floor to allow room for their rescuers to engage their captors.

Thranduil greeted the throng of black armor clad opponents and whirled among the weapons clashing around him, searching for one foe in particular. He had not truly believed Tolvaris would be here though he had hoped for it. If the dark elf had any sense of priorities or strategy, and Thranduil had to believe he did, he would be found leading the march against the woodland realm.

The elvenking's jaw set as he thought of the attack on his home and the large steel plated man he was facing now received the brunt of his anger, first with a deft gash to the sliver between plates on the inside of an elbow. Then with a jab in an eye that drove deep into his skull. He turned from the man, whose body had yet to begin to fall, certain he was dead even as the wounds he'd left bled and arms twitched in reflex.

The next to approach was a trio of small leather armored Easterlings. They required more thought to dispatch as they attacked simultaneously, each attempting to pierce him with a spear. After dancing around their offensives twice, he realized their pattern and he also knew they couldn't yet read his movements. Deliberately repeating his earlier steps, he saw confidence in their responses as they began to anticipate him. On his final step, he stopped short and pivoted away and the now-overconfident men continued into their motions, impaling one another on the bladed ends of their weapons.

A rush of combatants came toward them, elves leapt from the floor and onto the crisscrossing poles before vaulting onto other fixtures in the room. They were followed closely by enemies less agile and heavier and the trio screamed as their flesh began to give way under the weight.

Thranduil didn't wait to witness the violent de-goring and moved on to battle someone new. His nose wrinkled as the stench of human bowels followed him.

Bard's arrows were beginning to run low if the lack of weight on his back was any indication. He spotted an archer in black armor, perched on the low end of a ceiling beam and rushed toward the wall past him. The man was picking off anyone not well protected and his foot hung down for counter balance as he leaned into his aim. Bard arced toward the wall and strode up onto it, using momentum and traction to run several feet higher than he could have jumped and then kicked himself off. He stretched his reach for the archer's foot and grunted triumphantly as his fingers took hold of the ankle, dragging his quarry down to the floor.

The man landed on his neck and the sound of bones crunching followed. He never got up again.

"Thank you," Bard said as he lifted the arrows from his foe. "You're too kind."

Citizens of Esgaroth shrieked high and pitifully, desperately trying to get away or find a weapon. Thranduil had to admit he was more surprised than he was prepared to be that some had chosen to stay and fight. Most of the women gathered the children close and fled through the front door and out into the hall but even some of them had picked up a heavy or sharp item to help reclaim their home.

Eleros shouted a warning and Thranduil paused to listen. Violent scuffles sounded on the floor above them and the Master could be heard simpering loudly about a wound and careless elves. He cast a glance at Bard who had also heard the Master and was looking upward.

The bargeman grinned. "If he isn't dead, things must be going well."

Thranduil flattened his lips. He didn't share Bard's good humor. Tolvaris had left no real challenge here. Esgaroth wasn't important to him. It was hard not to feel he was wasting time better spent making the journey back to his kingdom. Urgency began to lick at his patience and efficiency. He opted to kill with the first strike rather than toy with any of the tribesmen and returned to the battle at hand.

 

* * *

 

 

When Seren returned to the infirmary with Menui, Ceridwen had another directive for her. After taking her baskets and handing back a piece of bread and fruit with a command to eat, she gave the human a satchel that clinked musically with little vials of glass.

"Poultices, bandages and field kits…" The healer said as she rushed away. She took a moment to help hold a convulsing elf down while another healer poured something between his lips that stilled him.

"The Prince expects me to inform him of your waking; and he is expecting those on the south battlements. The bulk of the fighting is there. Halloran will take you." Ceridwen gestured to a quiet, ivory skinned, red mahogany haired elf.

Seren blinked having not noticed her amidst the chaos in the room. Every bed was occupied and the shelves of Ceridwen's stores had noticeably dwindled.

Ceridwen paused on another pass, noticing Menui for the first time. "Child you should be with your mother."

"But she's not home," the girl cried.

The healer swallowed and gestured for Menui to come to her. When she didn't budge, Seren knelt and hugged her close.

"You'll be safe here. Wait for me in the apothecary and listen to the music, alright?"

It took several moments but the child eventually agreed and went to Ceridwen.

Halloran came into view and collected a second satchel, gesturing for Seren to follow.

 

* * *

 

 

From a rocky ledge overlooking the clearing below, Legolas watched the gap between the elves and the Easterlings grow as the enemy retreated to the dark trees and dense forest. His people chased after them but he gestured for the call to quit the field for the night and a hollow horn was sounded. "They're falling back. We have our own wounded and dead to attend to."

"I beg pardon my lord, but we should press our advantage," one of his archers objected.

Legolas rounded on him. "It is no advantage. We are matched. Were I to send more warriors out to take them down, we would likely lose most of our kin to whatever forces remain hidden in the dark wood."

"So we will wait for them try again at dawn?"

"The forest is as much an enemy to them as it is to us. They will not rest easy and their numbers dwindle faster against the might of this mountain – that is our advantage. We will see to our people and resume this in the morning. We can wait them out for a time, but they will have to concede if they do not succeed soon."

"No doubt they assumed victory would be easier with the Dragon's Heart they've been using," Seren said as she and Halloran crested a long set of stairs that led through the mountain.

"Ceridwen has too many patients and not enough beds or supplies," Halloran added.

Legolas stared wide eyed at them for a moment before grinning and embracing Seren's shoulders with a brief, firm squeeze. "I'm glad you are well."

Seren acknowledged this with a nod and held the satchel she carried open for the elves to begin dispersing supplies.

"How many have been lost?" Legolas asked.

"One hundred and thirty-seven have perished, my lord," Halloran supplied. She took in the sounds of distress and pain around her and added, "Thus far..."

In short order, their satchels were empty. Halloran tasked able elves with carting the most severely wounded on stretchers back to Ceridwen before she and Seren sprinted back to the infirmary for more salves and bandages.

The second trip was worse. It was quieter and far more bodies lay still, some turning to red ash while others had paled and lay in a wide puddle of crimson. Seren paused amidst the elves organizing their kin and helping those they could off the battlefield. She was no stranger to death. Her battle with leukemia had introduced her to it early and often; but never had she personally seen so many of a people she cared for robbed of life.

She shook her head as dizziness threatened her footing and looked down, trying to breathe. The shining ruby hue of the stone under her feet startled her and suddenly she had to get to clean ground, anywhere but the swirling slick beneath her. She hurried over a catwalk to the carven wood battlement built against the mountain and ran to the left until she reached an archers' nest and sat at its base on a wooden crate where arrows were stored. Even though she closed her eyes to the scene before her, she still saw it and she ached. Her face was hot and her heart hammered in her chest.

A shadow fell over her and nothing was said as Legolas sat next to her, offering a water skin. She took it and drank greedily, only registering the taste of one of Ceridwen's poultices after several swallows. Immediately the herbs began to slow her pulse and her chest loosened. Her breathing eased and a slack feeling rolled through her limbs.

"Thank you," she said and finally met the prince's gaze. "So many lives lost… faces I see every day and will never greet again. I couldn't begin to describe the feeling that came over me."

Legolas gazed down at his interlaced hands. "I hope you never see enough war and death to lose that feeling."

When he raised his eyes again, they were immeasurably sad and long past the point of shedding tears so great was the grief she saw there. The chaos of war and dead kin flashed into her thoughts in sympathy of the horror he'd just survived. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and made no reply and instead allowed him the reprieve to just be for a moment.

The moon was beginning to rise into the oncoming night and she watched its halo gently cast itself in waves over the sky, deepening shadows and lifting up the details of the world around them.

"I wish my father were here," Legolas said suddenly.

The familiar jerk of every nerve ending at the mention of Thranduil startled Seren enough to visibly jump just a little. She covered it by hugging her arms around herself as if she were cold.

"He will come, Legolas."

A slight and sad smile graced the prince's features. "Of that I have no doubt."

"You have done well here."

He was quiet for many moments before finally replying. "More have been claimed by the Dragon's Heart. They number almost half of all who perished. The death toll is now one hundred and fifty-three."

Seren flinched.

"There are no bodies to bury. They're just… gone."

Unable to contain the impulse, Seren gently lifted his chin and narrowed her gaze into his. "We will see that they are remembered."

He cast his eyes down but nodded once after a moment. His forehead tilted forward a fraction of an inch, just enough to brush hers. She leaned into the gesture, gentle pressure and thoughts of calm offering him solace.

The world resumed its pace at disorienting speed when he stood and offered her a hand. Once on her feet, she was again focused on the work to be done and handed out the new batch of supplies as she traversed the battlement.

Around her, elves were steadily clearing the planks of wounded, and then the dead. Then lastly, their blood was scrubbed away. Seren kept too busy to think about the reality of her work. The first task was also the largest. Haphazard piles of armor lay everywhere; having been hastily discarded to treat wounds or remove the dead from them for ease of transport. The forges would be burn hot all through the night, repairing what could be salvaged. Seren joined many others, surveying pieces for damage and sorting them until every plate had been inventoried.

Without armor lying everywhere, the battlement's walkways felt less crowded, which was just as well as the trunks stationed at intervals along the wall were hauled close to a quartermaster who would spend the night replacing the weapons supplies stored in each.

Around midnight Seren found herself picking up the gore that had finally dried enough not to slip her grasp. Briefly she wondered who a particular piece belonged to and then shuddered at the absurd curiosity, forcing herself not to think of the task as picking up crumbs of people.

Soft squelching bits of crimson might have been torn leather or piece of skin or bowels – she didn't care to find out as she helped clean them up and plucked arrows out of the wall. A red fist-sized lump stuck to the end of a thick ebony assault machine shaft might have been a heart but she barely paid it any attention as it fell to her feet when the shaft was lifted from the floor. It had been cast aside after its victim had been freed. She simply swept the pulped organ up into her bag and breathed deeply through her nose, thinking of her paintings to keep her mind off the activity.

Next she spotted a lock of reddish bronze hair and stooped to pluck it off the walkway but dropped it as a stripe of scalp and skin still bearing a pointed ear unfurled and dangled before her. Her stomach heaved violently and she rushed to the banister, retching over the rocks below.

No one bothered her as she returned what was left of the fruit and bread Ceridwen had given her. No one looked upon her with pity or shame and they left her to her sickness despite appearing anxious to ask after her wellbeing. She wasn't sure which was worse.

The water skin Legolas had given her came to mind and she returned to her former seat, finding it undisturbed. She returned to her discarded sack as she drank greedily, welcoming the dull heavy feeling that made her insides go still and steadied her vision.

It was her terrible luck that Legolas came upon her during this moment and he watched her with a bemused expression.

"The tonic wears off after a time," Legolas explained. "You must continue to drink."

She took one last swallow and nodded.

He glanced around at the others watching them. Some tried to hide it and others stared openly. "Come with me. There is something you should see."

"Oh?" The nerves in Seren's stomach returned and she closed in on Legolas's heels as they entered the mountain.

 

* * *

 

 

Esgaroth's tally of dead had been less than feared but more than hoped. Thranduil bitterly considered the preparations underway to lay them to rest. His own people suffered a few casualties but four elves was still too great a cost to him when there were far greater losses being accrued in his kingdom. The few Easterlings that had been allowed to live long enough for questioning were all too happy to boast about how much of the Dragon's Heart they had already prepared. A single arrow would be fatal to any elf and he wouldn't fool himself with the hope that every one of his kin escaped the hail.

Frustration took up residence in his jaw and he ground his teeth together. He should be there instead of here helping the simpering Master who was doing more to hinder than help efforts to stabilize his people.

The fat man moaned frequently about needing healing for the cut on his leg. Certainly it stung but it didn't impede his function and it was something time would heal completely. Loud complaints impugning elvish medicine as a fraud drifted periodically over the air.

As the sky fell to full dark, Thranduil decided he would gather his people and take their leave. If fortune was on their side, they might reach his halls before midday on the morrow. He could not fathom a single moment more than necessary spent here in the town upon the lake.

So lost was the elvenking in his resentment, he almost failed to notice Bard's and Eleros's presence in time to turn and greet them. The king grinned mildly when he saw Nuinethir was with them. Through the window to the courtyard beyond the keep, he could discern many dark shapes standing in formation and shifting restlessly under the light of their torches.

"My lord," Nuinethir greeted with a deep bow.

Thranduil held his right open palm to his chest and nodded down imperceptibly. "Are you well?"

"Quite, my lord," the runner answered eagerly. "Our wounded are doing well also. Tellis is mending admirably. We've all returned to Esgaroth and await your command."

"I have gathered those of my people willing and able to join us," Bard said and looked toward the courtyard. "They stand ready to depart, this very evening if you wish it."

Thranduil's eyes widened imperceptibly. "Do your people not need you here?"

Bard smiled a little. "The wounds have been dressed. The survivors have been fed and given what comforts that can be spared. The dead have been accounted for and ceremonial platforms for the lake pyres are being constructed now. The city has been thoroughly searched for any remaining sons of Rhun and declared free. There is little else to be done now and your people need you. I pledged to help you and so have over four hundred of our men and women. Let us not waste any more time than we need."

Thranduil's smile was slight but genuine. "Make whatever final preparations you must. We will depart in an hour."

 

* * *

 

 

Caireann and Laseviir poked around the scant remains of their camp. The lack of debris encouraged hope. With the moon rising full and bright, the entire clearing was lit with its cerulean glow. The space was empty; save for cold fire pits, tiny bits of torn suede and splintered beech.

"The tents were pulled up," Laseviir stated, remembering the destruction of the camp as it was invaded. "Our people reclaimed the camp."

"There are also tracks leading north," Lithia said, pointing at the path with one of her arrows. "Many are pressed deep into the soil and snow – they were likely burden with wounded."

It was heartening news and Caireann breathed a little easier. "We will press on to the city and then, home."

Fariel, who had remained silent, padded swiftly past the group and to the front of the clearing to survey the forest ahead. When he gestured for them to follow, they continued their journey under the rising moon, their thoughts less troubled than before.

 

* * *

 

 

A sense of urgency made Seren yearn to increase her stride but she and Legolas were already walking a pace so brisk, any increase would have them running. He led her to the far side of the cavern where the seat of the king stood and they slipped into a hallway she'd never been in before. It led directly from the dais and deep into the mountain. The stone walls were hewn with even finer details. Archways were artworks of forested landscapes occupied with all manner of little stone animals. The occasional dot of silver or gold patina highlighted leaves and shimmered delicately like stars in the black shadows of the vaulted ceiling. The hall rounded a bend and moonlight streamed in through high elegant arches and the scenery in the carven stone came to life. Shadows cast by the relief of each tiny stone figure made them appear to lope casually through a moonlit meadow while the night sky twinkled above through a canopy of trees made of polished, living earth. Seren stopped to take in the enormous wall of art before her, nearly breathless with its scope.

"It's beautiful…" Clouds behind her rolled over the moon outside and the scenery shifted merrily as she watched.

Legolas had paused to give her a moment, not surprised in the least that she found the forest carving eye-catching. After centuries, he still stopped to appreciate it from time to time. He knew well what she giggled about when the light outside shifted again.

"The elk almost seems to wink!"

"It's as though he knows something we do not," Legolas supplied with a smirk. He'd watched that many times.

Seren smiled. "How long this must have taken!" She studied the style in the carving's lines and her brow knit in concentration. "This wasn't made by the dwarves who carved the fortress into the mountain. The etching strokes aren't the same."

"Quite the observation," Legolas agreed and approached her. He spoke low so his answer didn't carry. "Tellis carved this."

Seren's eyes widened comically. "Tellis?" She stared again at the wall, trying to picture the willowy tan elf focused on the stone with tools in hand.

"After he was wounded… and under the burden of everything he had lost, he took up a stone cutter and began carving into this hall." Legolas wandered a few feet away, finding his target unerringly and caressed the stone, enticing Seren to look more closely.

"It's so rough," she said when she saw the jaggedly rendered misshapen figures gathered in a clearing. The piece occupied less than a square foot of the wall but now that she'd seen it, it stood out.

"Tellis had no skill to speak of but he improved with time. He polished his earlier attempts but father refuses to let him change this first carving. He says it's a reminder of how far he's come."

Seren smiled softly, both from learning more about Tellis, and the king's endearingly odd yet unsurprising consideration. " _You're far more sentimental than you'd like others to believe…_ " Her own words echoed to her. Though he never acknowledged it, Thranduil did have a strong sense of symbolism when it came to matters he cared about. The little leaves he left on Legolas's gift, his insistence she wear the insignia of the woodland elves were evidence of this. Now she knew of this stone carved masterpiece, marred by one sloppy first attempt. It wasn't surprising at all.

"This isn't what we came to see, however," Legolas stated.

Seren straightened, gesturing for him to lead the way. He pivoted on a heel and continued down the hall until it split. The wide mouth of the joined hallways was elegantly decorated with gold gilded leaves and vines. Tiny fires danced in delicate wrought iron braziers that hung from wall sconces. Both halls had a grand air about them and Seren grew ever more certain of her suspicions as to their destination.

Legolas paused as she slowed and stared down the hall to the left as he led her to the right. "This way."

Seren shook herself back to the present and resumed the trek. After wending through a pair of turns, they finally came to a wide open arch cut into stone and what looked like a spacious set of personal chambers beyond.

She stared around her as she crossed the threshold. She had thought her chambers indulgent but the grandeur of the room in which she now stood made it seem plain by comparison. Yet it somehow managed to still be simple in its elegance. The most extravagant feature was a set of three pillars, polished and carved, reaching in stone arcs toward one another high overhead. In the center of them, the ceiling was cut open in an intricate pattern to allow in narrow beams of natural light. Various shades of deep green fabric hung in sitting areas for partitions and a rich dark brown carpet, bearing a leaf pattern trim embroidered in golden thread dominated the center of the floor. Large wooden chairs and chaises dotted the space and more tiny braziers hung everywhere, casting a golden hue over it all.

Ahead of her, a tall set of three arches opened to a grand balcony. A wooden trellis allowed vines bearing small white flowers to climb over the platform, offering shade and filtered out the spray of a nearby waterfall.

"These are your chambers," Seren stated more than asked. Then she spotted the rear wall, adorned with various blades, bows and quivers above a solid and massive work table where tools and components for making arrows spread haphazardly over the surface.

Legolas didn't deny this and instead gestured for Seren's attention to be directed to a covered stand in the center of the room. He opened the green fabric and pulled it away.

Her heart skipped when she saw her easel. "Why do you have my painting?" She raised questioning eyes to him and a hint of betrayal burned there.

"I beg your forgiveness for intruding upon your space but I could not leave this as I worried Menui and Ceridwen would have told others of its existence and spread rumors that have no merit. I must ask who this is."

Seren considered the question, frowning. "I see people or places – sometimes objects – that have no relevance to me but I'm driven to paint them all the same."

Legolas's brow furrowed. "She is no one to you? You have no idea where you might have seen her?"

"She's a creation – nothing more."

"I beg to differ," Legolas stated softly.

He gestured for Seren to approach around the pillar obscuring the left wall from view and watched her expression intently.

She gasped when she saw another painting hanging there. It was massive. Life size renderings of three people appeared on the canvas. One was obviously Thranduil, though he seemed younger despite not looking less aged. Another, smaller figure could be none other than Legolas as a child, held aloft in his mother's arms as they laughed amidst the backdrop of a sunlit garden. The final figure's resemblance to the prince was undeniable and Seren stared at her.

Clear, pale blue diamond eyes shone brightly from her delicate, pale features and the gold luminance of her tresses fell around her like a sunlit waterfall. Grace was evident in her poise and laughter shone in her smile as she embraced her son who posed with a tiny bow in his hands.

Seren looked again at her easel. The same eyes stared at her and the same jewel was nestled in the hollow of each woman's throat. It was a tiny white star shaped gem held aloft by intricate swirling vines of gold. There was no denying that it was Legolas's mother depicted on Seren's easel.

Emerald eyes flickered between the paintings. "This isn't possible…"

Seren was slowly shaking her head, wanting to refuse this was happening but Legolas demanded her attention again.

"Look closer at your painting, Seren."

Seren stared for a time and the elven woman stared back. Slowly the gaze began to feel alive. The image blurred around the edges and her eyelids slipped down of their own accord. The painting dissolved, spreading over the blackness of her mind's eye. Around her, the sunlight in the garden shifted and sparkled with little motes. Faint laughter played in her thoughts and a breeze that smelled of spring filled her senses.

A tiny voice, far away declared, " _My aim is true, ada!"_

The visage of the woman shifted out of view and a familiar garden Seren had never seen sprawled before her. It was watery and blurry except in the center were a tiny figure in silver with a pale head stood many yards away, pulling back an arrow in his small bow, aiming toward a wooden circle near her to her right. The vision ended when the little pointed shaft suddenly flew toward her.

Seren yelped and clutched her abdomen, feeling the arrow's impact, expecting pain and blood but there was nothing. Her heart raced as her mind grappled with the realization that she hadn't just been shot. Laughter echoed dimly in her ears, a deep and unmistakable resonance. Thranduil…

She gazed up at Legolas who was staring where she clutched her abdomen, just under the ribs. He had gone as pale as if he'd seen a ghost.

"I saw…" Seren shook her head. "I don't know… Can you see it?"

"Any who look upon this painting can," Legolas replied distantly.

He gently stroked a finger over her hand and the phantom wound.

"I shot him here…" Finally, he seemed to see her again. "By accident," he quickly amended. "I do not know how, but you painted one of my father's memories."


	28. Truths Unseen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many things are true whether you know them or not. Seren begins to understand she cannot escape this fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. Again: loooooooots of major edits and rewrites. as busy as I am it's difficult to see how it's flowing until I have the time to get into it. I also wanted to write quite a bit ahead to try and have get back on a weekly posting schedule. I hope you like this chapter and, as always, thanks for reading! =D

Seren backed away from Legolas and her painting. "Such a thing is not possible."

Legolas scowled. "Yet it is here before us."

She retreated further and the prince seemed on the verge of reaching to halt her steps. "Then there is another explanation. There must be! This isn't…"

An image of Taliesin flashed in her mind. Her parents and her home followed. Everything she counted as part of who she was streaked across her thoughts. Against the backdrop of the elven halls around her, they were out of place and she couldn't tell which was false.

She shook her head to clear it. She knew what she had seen in her painting. She had nearly accepted it without question. It was yet another thing to add to the growing list of strange occurrences in her life. It was completely beyond her understanding, however and she spun away from the sight of her easel and fled through the long halls of the kingdom.

 

* * *

 

 

The forest loomed dark over head in the late evening and Caireann felt more secure in the shadows. She, Laseviir, and the others had reached the city on the lake. Now they watched the lighted buildings intently.

"If the Easterlings control Esgaroth, we would not know from standing out here," Laseviir grumbled.

"Agreed," Caireann replied. She looked off into the distance toward the main gate and beckoned for her kin to follow.

Silently the five elves circled the human city until the bridge came into view. Figures on the shore, just beyond the gate gave her pause, but as she they shuffled about casually, their long shining hair and luminescent visages sharpened under the light of the moon, Caireann release a long breath. A smile broke over her features and she nearly laughed with relief.

She would know Tellis's lanky form across any distance. He paused when she stepped from the shadows of the wood and visibly startled as the others did the same.

Now certain it was safe, the five strode across the open land, unconcerned about the snow crunching under their feet.

Others near Tellis finally noticed the wayward warrior and shouts rang out.

" _It's Caireann!"_

" _Laseviir is with her!"_

"Child, we thought you lost," Tellis said when they finally stood before each other and hastily bowed together.

Caireann laughed and gripped the advisor's shoulder, noting his lean and the pain in his expression; his clothes still stained red on one side.

"Already I have healed a great deal," Tellis assured when he saw where her gaze was drawn. "Others were less fortunate during the effort to free Lake Town."

"How many?"

"Four perished. Five were wounded."

Caireann hesitated to ask her next question but decided appearances were the least of her concerns. "What of Nuinethir?"

Tellis smiled indulgently. "He lives." He almost laughed as the warrior sighed in relief, her hazel eyes brightening.

"You have arrived just in time, Caireann," another of her kin said suddenly. "We are due to leave as soon as the king returns."

Caireann scowled in thought. "The city will do without our aid?"

Tellis interjected, "The bulk of the Easterlings have marched on our kingdom. Bard has pledged to offer aid to defend it."

The news made Caireann's stomach tense. "Without their dark master's direction, they would dare?"

Tellis watched her sadly. "Their numbers match two-thirds of our army's compliment and they have Dragon's Heart. They dare because such an opportunity has never come before nor will again. They left this morning to launch an assault."

Caireann's eyes widened with alarm. "Dragon's Heart is certain death. There is no antidote! It will bring devastation to our people and the king stayed here to help the humans?!"

"We were in no state to intervene, Caireann," Tellis patiently rested a hand on her shoulder. "And the path home was cut off before we were fit to leave. The king has spent the day reclaiming our kin and freeing the humans so that we might better help our people."

"But Legolas would have no warning!"

"Seren followed the army and traveled through the forest in the hope of heading them off. With luck, Legolas will have had the time needed to prepare."

Caireann's mouth pressed into a flat line, restraining further objections. Dozens and then hundreds of footsteps rebounding off a hollow wooden floor echoed to her ears and she turned to the bridge. Inwardly, her heart lifted at the sight of the king, Bard, Nuinethir and Eleros, flanked by the rest of their kin and hundreds of humans. Outwardly, she chided the king's guard.

"You tarried long enough."

"Caireann!" Nuinethir blurted and his eyes widened.

Thranduil stepped to the side so the runner could pass him and he all but ran from the bridge. Bard chuckled when Nuinethir remembered himself at the last moment and refrained from embracing Caireann. Instead he awkwardly clasped her shoulders and bowed his head.

"You are fooling no one!" Eleros called out to the pair as the elves left the gate to join Tellis.

"This is not your concern!" Nuinethir shot back.

Laughter rose above the assembled elves and humans and everyone clustered together to discuss the journey north, into the woods.

"Where were you taken?" Nuinethir asked idly, leading Caireann into a slow stroll back toward their kin. He clasped his hands awkwardly behind his back to help maintain his composure, so great was the impulse to reach for her.

"The Easterlings have a camp further south, half a day's journey from here. Believing us subdued by their poison, they became complacent with our guard. We took the opportunity to slip from their camp long before they suspected a thing." Caireann smiled to herself a little. "I am sure they've realized our absence by now however."

Nuinethir chuckled. "The arrogance displayed by the Sons of Rhun has undone their efforts here, as well."

Caireann's smile faded. "I doubt capturing Esgaroth was truly their aim."

Nuinethir had no reply for that as they reached the circle around the king.

Pairs of scouts were sent off in every direction to be sure of their safe passage and lines of formation were organized. Archers were placed in clusters near the center and armored warriors on the edges. Those most vulnerable or wounded were placed directly center of the party.

With the moon high overhead, Thranduil felt his pulse thrum as they finally began the trek north. He thought of Legolas and the kingdom and what state he might find his home in. He had not wished to consider the outcome of Seren's failure but he turned his focus toward that possibility now, unpleasant as it was. It proved a great distraction, however; as he found himself worrying what fate could have kept her. More than once the terrain nearly tripped him, so lost was he among his own musings.

Tellis came alongside him and walked in silence for a time. "Are you well, my lord? You seem… overburdened in both mind and body."

Thranduil straightened his posture and pulled the sleeves of tunic taut and smoothed the front. "The recent days have been a trying time. I am ready to see it brought to an end."

Tellis accepted this for the moment. Like his people, the king was strained by the events of the past week, the most recent days in particular, and faint shadows had crept over his features. They all needed time for repose. It wouldn't do to pry further if there was nothing to be concerned about.

"My lord!"

Everyone stopped. Thranduil watched a pair of his scouts hurry to him, expressions alight.

"There is something you must see!"

The elvenking frowned. "Is it beyond you to report to me what you have discovered?"

"No words could suffice," the other scout replied.

A long sigh slipped from Thranduil's lips. He did not relish any delay and nearly refused but for the faintest breeze of a sweeter air coming from the northeast. His expression lost some of its severity and his head tilted with curiosity.

"Very well." He gestured to the scouts and followed them with his escort.

The gnarled, winter laden trees snagged at his clothes and hair as he made his way through and soon they reached the sickened southern border of his realm. The forest grew darker and the ground clung to his boots with a muddy stench. This far from the river and what little rejuvenating essence it offered, the trees grew twisted and almost black. Decay clung to everything, giving the less savory creatures of the world a plentiful supply of food and shelter.

The air felt heavier here. It carried a musty tang and the moon no longer reached forest floor. Were it not for the faint whiff of fresh air teasing his senses, he would have ended this detour. As it was, his patience was nearing an end.

The scouts abruptly veered north, wending through trees more easily and Thranduil's escort followed smoothly. The ground between these trees felt more solid and the elves left stinking footprints of wet earth on the dry soil. Further on the trees seemed to lose some of their malice, though they didn't appear different.

A pass between two grand oaks revealed a slope toward a clearing as he crested it and the elvenking stopped at the sight beyond.

The scouts looked to him and his guard, smiling. One of them leapt into a tree, swiftly climbing out of sight.

Slowly, Thranduil stepped into the little clearing, his gaze casting around quickly. The surrounding trees no longer reeked of the corruption in his forest and their color reflected the soft hues of the night. Their crowns rustled crisply in the breeze, letting beams of moonlight stream through their boughs to caress blades of new grass carpeting the floor. The brambles and thorny vines had receded and a wide swath of gentle woods led north from the clearing.

Thranduil did not spend long wondering what had changed here and his breath quickened imperceptibly as a near-certainty taunted him. He searched the clearing, finding the smaller footprints he suspected he would and followed them. They ended at the foot of a great tree, a tree bearing minor damage to the sharp tiny knots in its bark.

Into the long silence, Nuinethir breathlessly spoke. "What has happened here?"

"How far do you think this path leads?" Eleros asked.

From the branches overhead, the scout who had scaled the trees answered him as he descended once again. "It goes as far as I can see, many miles at least. It points directly home."

"It is the path Seren took," Thranduil said absently as a thin line of reflected moonlight shone from the lowest branches just above his head.

"But mere days ago this was not here," Nuinethir countered.

Thranduil gently tugged the tangled thread free. It was unmistakably red against his skin. He glanced up again at where it came from and spotted tiny smears of crimson on the bark. Though it should have dried long ago, it shone in the dark.

Thranduil stepped back and held the hair aloft. "Nevertheless, Seren seems to have been drawn here."

Nuinethir would not drop the matter so easily. It hadn't escaped his notice that some things about Seren made little sense. "It seems odd to find such a path exactly where it is needed, when it is needed."

"It is very odd indeed," Thranduil agreed and forestalled any further debate with commands to have the rest of their group brought to the clearing. It seemed folly not to make use of the path.

 

* * *

 

 

"It's Nuineri!"

Ceridwen rushed over the northern ramparts as she had been summoned. Her satchel of bandages and poultices clinked loudly with her steps as she ran with a group of her healers.

"By the stars!" Ceridwen said when she saw her friend and her heart stammered in its rhythm.

Her patient was none other than the First In Order of the kitchens, lying on the deck with an arrow in her shoulder that cascaded with crimson. Lines glowing like embers crept over the right half of Nuineri's torso and she contorted in pain, her skin already a sickly shade of ash.

"No…" Tears threatened Ceridwen's vision as she took a vial out to help with pain. "Fetch Seren and the prince. Menui's waiting in the infirmary for her mother. Let us reunite them."

A male youth nodded and set down the supplies he held, tearing off back into the mountain as the others lifted Nuineri for the trip back to the healing ward.

 

* * *

 

 

Seren thought of the painting on the easel as she wandered the elves' halls, not caring where her steps took her. Memories of her life swirled in her mind. She dredged up everything she could remember, getting lost in one of her earliest recollections. An image of a beautiful glowing garden flashed before the memory and she stopped mid-step. Her chest tightened but she pulled the image back, blurry and incomplete as it was. Again it drifted from her, like sand slipping through her fingers.

Frustration brought tears to her eyes as she tried to decipher the new image and a shaft of moonlight caressed her face. The high windows carved into the stone allowed a glimpse of the white orb hanging in the sky and she approached the window's ledge, feeling watched. She had always felt watched.

"All my life I thought you a construct of my imagination – even on Earth where the moon is little more than a dusty rock reflecting the sun's light. According to the scrawl on my childhood drawing, you are called Mandos."

A long sigh escaped her and she cast her eyes down and whispered, "What do you want of me?"

Echoes of running footsteps alerted her to someone's approach and she startled. A boy just beginning his maturation flew toward her, his long, knobby limbs flailing about when he spotted her and paused.

"Ceridwen said you and lord Legolas must come!" He heaved with exertion.

A strange feeling passed through Seren and she knew before she turned, she would find Legolas behind her. The hallway was empty for a moment before he carefully stepped into view. Seren swallowed the panic and the questions she had and returned her attention to the boy.

"Nuineri has been hurt!" He said in a high pitch.

"Nuineri?" Seren felt her entire body flinch. The view around her dimmed as she jogged toward the boy.

He didn't wait for her and instead pivoted, dashing back from the direction he'd come.

Seren caught up to him easily, Legolas close behind and together they ran through the halls as fast as the winding paths would allow.

Just within the infirmary, a thick cluster of shadows told Seren they'd placed Nuineri down on a bed as she entered the room. She went to her friend's side. A cry escaped when she saw the telltale signs of Dragon's Heart poisoning.

"Mother!"

Menui sobbed in her mother's sleeve, inconsolable. The child had seen what became of those with the glowing red texture in their skin.

Nuineri reached for her with a shaking hand and stroked her head. The contrast of ashen gray against the girl's golden locks stark and horrible. Varis stood silent across from Seren, gray eyes sad.

Seren felt her face heat and tears welled in her eyes. "What happened to you?"

Nuineri gave her a familiar warm grin, gray eyes sparkling. "Our men on the wall needed a good meal…"

Seren couldn't help a small sad smile. Of course everyone's favorite cook would have thought about supper in the middle of a battle.

Legolas spoke quietly from behind her.

"Shortly after the Easterlings withdrew, some of their archers loosed one last volley into our ranks on the northern end."

"I had thought the danger passed," Nuineri added with slow effort. She coughed as the lines spreading over her advanced further.

Seren's eyes fell closed. "I wondered where you had gone. I didn't think you'd been –"

"Shhhh…" Nuineri reached for Seren's hand.

For a long moment, no one spoke and only Menui's soft sobs broke the silence. Nuineri's skin was unnaturally hot and Seren gazed upon their clasped hands.

Around her were various faces of grief. Legolas was pained and solemn. Ceridwen was resigned and anguished and Menui was utterly heartbroken. The child wept openly, desperately begging her mother not to go. Nuineri calmly murmured about her love for her daughter and promised her child she would be whole again someday. Seren doubted that.

This was the cost of war. Seren felt a piece finally slide into place that she hadn't known was missing. This was her family. Her roots were here now and one was dying.

She raised her head toward the tall windows, staring once again at the moon as she silently asked the makers of Arda to let Nuineri stay.

_Whatever you want of me, I'll give if you just let her stay._

Seren hadn't truly expected anything and silently cursed the ridiculousness she was entertaining when a thought not her own came to her.

" _It is within you to change…but an answer will be demanded…"_

She pulled back abruptly, stumbling and staring with wild eyes. Everyone assembled watched her curiously.

"I'm sorry. I can't remain here."

For the second time that night, Seren fled.

Ceridwen took a few steps toward the door but Legolas halted her. "Leave her to grieve as she needs, Wen."

The healer nodded reluctantly and returned to her patient.

 

* * *

 

 

Seren rushed through the halls, not caring who saw her and burst through a door out into the cold night air. An enemy at their doorstep seemed the least of her problems as she fled to a place she could find without sight or thought.

Taliesin's resting place wasn't marked but the trees standing over him were immediately recognizable. She slowed to a stop and fell to her knees, sobbing quietly.

"I'm so afraid, Tal. You aren't here to help me figure out what I'm meant to do. I feel torn as though rent in two and I must choose which half of myself I would save. Sometimes, my memories of you feel like a distant and insignificant drop in a very large bucket but the tighter I cling to you, the thinner and more stretched I feel… and I _need_ you now but you left me! You should be here."

The snow dusted ground twinkled on as if she hadn't spoken and a breeze whistled quietly through small forest. After clearing away the sparkling soft white snow, she curled up over her brother's grave and wept until exhaustion claimed her.

 

* * *

 

 

Galadriel gazed up at the moon, her mind seeing more than her eyes. She and the forest both stood still while Arda revealed a face she had not yet seen. Seren's arrival had brought with it an awareness Galadriel thought long forsaken and it hovered just out of her sight until this moment.

Leithenil… Galadriel's inhale broke as she remembered a silver luminance she loved well in her youth. Much of that light had been consumed by Ungoliant ages ago but a small whisp of it yet remained.

The retinue waited while Elrond approached the Eldar gently. "My lady?"

"You know of the twelve guardians."

Elrond was unsurprised to hear Galadriel speak of them and he waited for her to continue.

"I witnessed the day they were pledged. They weren't appointed guardians at the time. The great evil of Morgoth had only just begun to be conceivable and was far from understood. Thus the guardians were merely servants of the Trees. It fell to them to administer to Laurelin and Telperion and to be ambassadors between those who sought rejuvenation from them and the will of the Valar."

"In the garden of Lorien, under the purview of Yavanna, being called to witness seems not unusual," Elrond offered.

Galadriel smiled faintly and stared off into nothing. "So small a thing… it seemed a tedious and insignificant matter. The formation of servants to the Trees was considered the first step along a path of tutelage under Yavanna. They came to be regarded as guardians when stirrings of Melkor's influence among the Noldor were revealed."

Finally Galadriel looked upon her daughter's husband. "I know what Seren is meant to atone for."

Elrond blinked. "You have seen Leithenil."

"Yes. I could not be certain when the life she lived before was hidden from me. You denied me her name, knowing I would understand."

"Yes," Elrond admitted. "I cannot speak further of her now," he whispered harshly. "It is a tale I have strength to tell but once. I will not speak of it before Seren is present to hear."

Galadriel lowered her head graciously, "Very well."

She strode forward to her guard and with a look they set off again. "We are still many days out from King Thranduil's halls. We shall tarry no longer."


	29. Love the Hardest Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heavy Is The Head That Wears The Crown. Life in Middle Earth has rules; rules no one can escape. Finally Seren begins to realize what that means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! Err... update, I mean. I've had this chapter sitting near completion for weeks now as I tweaked it and edited it to my liking. As always, time is scarce for me and the muse is fickle and I was being extra careful to get this installment juuuuust so. I'm getting further into lore and the meat of the story and I wanted to be sure I was happy with what I put forward as my "canon" for this saga. It had to be right! lol! As Always, if you've stuck around for this tale; I'm forever grateful and humbled and glad. Truly. Thank you so much! While I can't promise I'll post again soon, I am already working on chapter 30 and I always hope to post sooner rather than later... but we'll see. Aaaannnyway.... onto chapter 29! I hope you enjoy it!

 

_**Love the Hardest Way** _

 

 _“_ _Why are you here, Ren?”_

_Seren sat up. The white expanse of snow around her blinded her to everything but the tree under which she sat. It was the tree standing sentinel over her brother’s grave._

_“Taliesin!”_

_She rose to her feet and rushed forward but paused a few paces from him. “You aren’t real...” The air was cold but the snow hitting her skin felt like nothing. “This is a dream.”_

_Tal smiled. “It is your creation, little sister. It’s as real as you need it to be.” His smile faded. “You can’t remain here long, however.”_

_Gently he placed his hands on her shoulders. “Do you realize what this place is?”_

_She gazed around the white void. “I’m not dead…”_

_“No,” Tal confirmed. “Though you have drifted too far from life to seek me out. You must return.”_

_“If I refuse?”_

_“You promised…” Tal said a bit sternly._

_Seren scowled. “I promised my brother.”_

_“I am your memory of Taliesin. You know what I say to be true. He would not want you to squander your life on fear.”_

_Seren scoffed. “My life… I fear I am losing myself...”_

_The apparition of Tal smiled kindly and his hazel eyes shifted with deeper blue hues until they resembled the night sky, set alight with stars. “You are already lost. You have been for time beyond counting. All that you fear to be leading you astray are the pieces of the life of which you were robbed so long ago. It was all I could do to save your essence.”_

_A strange timber had entered Tal’s voice and Seren retreated from him. The apparition wasn’t her doing after all. Suddenly she knew him._

_“Mandos…”_

_He nodded once, a small downward tilt of his chin._

_“You could have chosen the appearance of anyone I know. Why take my brother’s form?”_

_“I thought you would be more receptive to my words if they came from Taliesin for I do not doubt he would agree. I was there when his mortality ended.”_

_“You guided him home?” Seren breathed through her words._

_Mandos smiled sadly. “I watched him leave. Not even I know where human souls journey to after they are released.”_

_“He should have been sent back to Earth!” Seren’s tone rose higher. “Can you not return us to where we belong?”_

_Mandos gently shook the head wearing Tal’s features. “Earth was never for you.”_

_Seren winced and paced away though she couldn’t help but hear his words._

_“Earth is a mirror,” Mandos said patiently. “Upon creation, Arda was corrupted with disharmony. Magic requires rules. The discord allowed those rules to be broken. Arda would have been lost to chaos. We guided Arda’s formation but in resisting the disharmony, we discovered a counterpart had formed - one to which Arda’s rules are anathema. They are linked by the dissonance that creates them. Thus the disharmony was given free reign. Magic cannot exist there. They are two sides of the same coin. Neither can exist without the other and no one can truly be of both worlds. You cannot be of both worlds.”_

_Seren considered this. It explained why Tal hadn’t responded to magic and why the elves faded as they did when they came to her home. “I’m only here because I’d hoped to save my brother. Earth was all I knew before that day.”_

_Mandos smiled. “But that is not all there is… Your king understands more than he realizes...”_

_A vast ocean of memories shimmered below her thoughts and she could recall each one. For a moment she was no longer Seren - or, rather, no longer just Seren, no longer only Seren. She was Seren as she comprehended herself to be with another - and far longer - lifetime as the foundation of her identity. The twenty-eight years of her life on Earth were a mere blink of the time she had lived, her humanity a very small part of who she was._

_It frightened her. It overjoyed her. Her mind was whole, though she hadn’t understood it to be sundered. An expansive awareness of the world settled around her like a fresh blanket of snow on a clear star-filled night. She nearly wept. She nearly ran. She nearly broke._

_Through the confusion, Mandos’ voice reached her. “You cannot remain as you are. By sundown, you will run from Destiny no longer.”_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Seren bolted up, sitting on the ground and shivered against the cold. She felt awful; weak, dim, as barely alive as though she was trying to settle back into her own skin. Memories of the dream shifted through her mind and she knew she wasn’t the same though she couldn’t understand how. She felt utterly insignificant and panic threatened to grip her when she recalled the parting statement Mandos left her with.  

What destiny awaited her? The remark had sounded ominous. ‘ _You cannot remain as you are.’_

Was she going to die? If she was never meant for Earth, where was she meant to be? Why such effort to take her from there? If she belonged here, how did she get to Earth? And why? Surely it couldn’t have been her doing?

Flashes of a gathering and a flood of disjointed images, scored by random voices, assailed her. Terror and resolve, grief and accomplishment; all this and a dozen other images and sensations she couldn’t name whirled about her before darkness rushed over it all.

She swayed and swallowed a swell of nausea.

Shaking off the shadow, she rose clumsily to her feet and gazed toward the mountain in which she lived. And then she remembered…

“Nuineri!”

She jumped with sudden adrenaline and took off at a shaky run.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The path through the woods gently sloped upward and the sun grazed the trees, lazily illuminating the darkness of the forest beyond the passage. Caireann paused and held a hand up. Behind her, the other scouts halted and they began to look about. She turned back to them and grinned.

“Do you hear?” she asked Nuinethir.

He listened carefully before grinning. “The river; we are nearly home.” After a moment more, he picked up the sounds of weapons clashing.

“It seems we haven’t missed the party, after all,” Caireann said.

Excitement rushed through them as they renewed their pace. A runner was sent to inform the king and his retinue and they pressed forward.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“My lord, Thranduil! We are nearing the kingdom!” A runner wove around the outliers of the company of elves and men and came to a halt before his king. He bowed and waited, breathing slightly labored from the short sprint several acres back to the main group.

Thranduil nodded, sending him on his way and ordered everyone to be ready. The night had been long, trekking through the white sparkling woods of his land. The path they’d found in Seren’s wake had maintained its integrity for the entirety of the journey and eased their progress. The elvenking kept his surprise about this development to himself but he was glad of the trail’s existence.

The sounds of the river soon murmured above the chirps and rustling leaves and their pace quickened, so eager were they to be done traipsing through the forest. Less than a half hour later they joined the fast flowing water that passed under their halls. Thranduil demanded everyone keep to the main canal, veering them north toward the caves beneath his kingdom and behind the mountain ridge guarding it.

In the distance ahead, he heard one of his patrol guards yell for the scouts to halt and rushed through his caravan to greet the patrolling elf. Caireann was explaining their presence in so conspicuous a location when he strode out of the trees.

“King Thranduil!” The guard and his companions immediately dropped into formal bows. The one who spoke gestured excitedly for another to run ahead and inform Legolas. He ordered the rest to take up defensive positions around the king.

“The river caves were opened, my lord; to allow for reinforcements without compromising the front gate.”

“Very good,” Thranduil replied, his voice clear and commanding to everyone present.

The caves were wet and slick but the elves’ preparations had made traversing them safe with hastily made gang planks laid over the rocks. They had to enter two abreast but everyone was inside in admirable time.

Once on the rocky deck, Thranduil gave orders to have weapons and armor readied and waiting for all who were lacking and still more of the guards ran off to have the orders spread.

Bard paused next to Thranduil as elves and humans disappeared in groups through the various tunnels leading into the mountain.

“The efficiency you demand of them is enviable. It is a sight to behold and I had forgotten it in the years since the battle at the Lonely Mountain.”

Thranduil smirked. His army was all that had stood between his people and the shadows of Mordor for centuries. He felt no shame in the pride he took in their readiness.

Nuinethir assumed the lead but not before commanding three dozen of the mixed company who possessed arms and armor to remain and guard the cave entrances. “Pull back, only once the tide covers the gates.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

“Loose!”

Legolas watched the hail of arrows sail across the space between the ramparts and the throng below. His people had engaged the Easterlings on the ground, keeping the enemy’s archers from getting closer. His own archers prevented them from launching Dragon’s Heart poisoned arrows into their midst at too great number. He had set up two columns of bows that alternated shots. Along the ramparts stood manned stations of supplies to replenish arrows and broken bows at a moment’s notice.

A loud groaning noise drifted above the shouts and clinking of swords and moments later a large battering device appeared from the tree line. The tip was encased in a sculpted metal dragon’s head.

His archers immediately targeted the men pushing the ram but as they fell, more took their place, doing their part to advance to device a few feet before also being hit by elvish arrows.

“There are too many!” The captain of the archers called out.

Soon after, the ram was at the front gate and the men inside its armored walls began pulling back the battering arm.

Legolas scoffed. “Let them waste their effort.” He blinked as the ram abruptly swung forward and bashed against the gate. The massive stone doors rang with the vibration of the impact but showed no sign of being affected.

Halloran appeared beside him. “If that head was forged in dragon’s fire…”

“Dragon’s Fire is unpredictable. It burns high and swift, leaving little time to forge anything of that size.”

“Yet they spent the effort to extract heart blood from a dragon’s corpse…”

It wasn’t impossible, Legolas knew. Once dead, a dragon and its various resources were far less dangerous. However, the fluid in the sacs lining a wyrm’s throat was prone to incinerating, at the slightest provocation. Never mind that heating it enough to light a smithy was a slow and laborious process – one prone to spontaneously exploding at any given moment and best kept to a small furnace..

“If they managed to salvage anything from the glands, it’s far more likely they would cast arrowheads and swords with it for piercing armor.”

“My lord, Legolas!”

An elf vaulted the entire staircase coming from the mountain in just three strides and landed on the deck of the ramparts. “I have word! The king has arrived through the river tunnels!”

Legolas smiled. “Take me to him.”

The messenger bowed before returning to the mountain, Legolas close behind him.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

A whetstone was offered and Thranduil took it, making Seren’s long dagger gleam. He waited patiently in the armory for another set of his armor to be brought to him, and stood over a depiction of his kingdom and the Easterlings’ forces outside.

“How many, Mairienn?” he asked of his advisor.

“Our scouts count our current assailants at two-thousand strong.”

Thranduil scowled. “That is two-thirds the number we tracked here.”

Mairienn nodded. “A large section of their contingent is holding back. Their family crest does not match that of Rhun. There are many crests among those waiting.”

A gleam lit Thranduil’s gaze at the news. “Something divides the houses…"

Nuinethir leaned away from the makeshift table and map slowly. “When they came to Esgaroth, they were united.”

“They also demanded Seren,” Thranduil replied with a slow pass of the stone on the blade rasping to underscore his point. “Lagdar seemed overconfident until he learned she had survived the Lothrim. Tolvaris sent a legion to our camp while I was away. Had she stayed as commanded, they would likely have taken her in place of the others.”

The runner’s expression paled. “They might have simply killed her. Her tent - Carieann’s tent - was ruined.”

“It seems the remaining clans’ participation is dependent on Tolvaris securing Seren in one capacity or another,” the elvenking agreed.

“Yet now they have failed, the clans have left the house of Rhun to this assault.” Nuinethir fixed the king with a meaningful stare. “Why?”

Loud footsteps in the hall outside the armory interrupted further conjecture and Thranduil looked up to see his son enter the room with his armor and another of his swords in hand.

The prince bowed his head and when he raised it, a faint smile graced his features. “Father…”

Thranduil returned the greeting before lifting his armor and slipping into it. Legolas and Nuinethir immediately went to work closing the buckles and clasps as the prince spoke.

“It seems a lifetime since Seren arrived yesterday morning. The Dragon’s Heart has caused many casualties and our people are frightened by the prospect of absolute destruction. They fight with as much courage as ever but the poison ensures they cannot return to battle once their wounds are tended. We will prevail but at great cost. If we seal the mountain, however, we can outlast them.”

Thranduil sighed. He knew this was why Tolvaris spent the effort to cultivate such a weapon. “No. I will not consign our people to cower under the mountain while our forest is overrun.”

Legolas frowned. “I did not expect such a decision from you, father... The forest -”

“The forest _is_ our kingdom as well as these halls. I will not lose what is left of it to these men. They would only hasten the shadows of Mordor upon our lands.”

Legolas swallowed at the strong rebuke. He’d been so sure the king would choose to sequester their people from harm, even as it galled him. Words failed the prince now and he flushed with shame at having misjudged his father so.

“We must exploit the chasm between the clans,” Thranduil continued, “and discover what importance Seren is to them. This began with her arrival and I foolishly took her from the protection of the mountain. It cannot be a coincidence.”

“Do you think she is complicit?” Legolas asked, surprise on his features.

Thranduil shook his head. A fond look softened his gaze a touch. “No. There is no malice or duplicity in her. Whatever she is to the Easterlings, she is as unaware of it as we.”

Now with his armor secured, the king ordered everyone out to battle stations and followed Legolas to the ramparts.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Seren gazed into the infirmary, wincing every time the battering ram outside made the halls echo terribly. Ceridwen seemed unfazed as she bustled about, tending her patients. From the door, she could see behind the partition that shielded those suffering from the poisoned arrows. Nuineri had withered considerably and her skin was a dark ash color, her eyes red as coals but she yet lived.

Fresh tears fell with every agonized whimper the woman issued and Seren’s heart ached for her friend. In the back of her mind, a thought nagged at her but she couldn’t catch it, seeing only an image of fire when she tried.

“Seren.”

Ceridwen was staring at her sadly. “There is nothing to be done.”

The human nodded. “I just wish…”

The healer nodded kindly. “She knows. She’s aware you’re here but it pains her further to see you aggrieved by her condition. I implore you to leave her be.”

“How much longer?”

“She will not last the day.”

Seren closed her eyes and dragged in a breath. “I thought we would have driven the Easterlings off by now. What good was running here if so many are going to die?”

Ceridwen stepped closer and whispered. “It would have been more dire and Nuineri would have far more company.” The healer gently swept a loose strand of Seren’s hair back from her face.

“I need your help. There are many wounded just inside the south gate by the ramparts. Some may be saved with immediate tending but the healers there need help.” A bag of supplies was lifted for Seren to take.

She accepted the burden and turned away from the sight of Nuineri’s dying form.

The halls blurred together and, before she knew it, she had reached the triage area. Moans of pain and cries of agony drifted down from the ledge above and she slipped into the staircase that spiraled up to the next floor.

The healers took supplies from the satchel as soon as she appeared, rushing to stem blood loss and give healing poultices or pain managing elixirs.

“Help me get him out of this!”

Seren looked to the speaker and found a healer meeting her gaze. Her stomach jumped and she rushed over to help. The rent and mangled armor made releasing the buckles impossible so she took her small knife to the straps and the plates sprang open.

The elf was a gory mess of torn garments, bruises and blood underneath. The gash in the breast plate made a sick squelching sound as the sharp metal was pulled free of flesh. The elf shrieked and then gasped, blood bubbling out of his mouth. The healer poured something past his lips and his patient settled, breathing heavy and rasping but the blood stopped flowing from his lips.

“Thank you,” the healer said to her without looking as he prepared a pressure bandage.

Seren nodded stiffly before rising to help another.

 

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“Where’s my blade?!”

Thranduil paused, listening to the cacophony coming from the triage area above. _Seren…_ He glanced at the tunnel leading outside and those marching ahead of him continued on, unaware of her words.

He veered to the staircase leading up, stepping easily over them by twos and nearly stumbled over a healer when he emerged. The elf apologized and then gasped, dropping into a bow.

“My lord!”

Seren stood from the elf she’d been trying to free from a dented helm and stared at the king. A pressure pounded slowly in her chest and her cheeks flamed. At her feet, her charge started convulsing and she spotted the glint of her knife then, lying in the dirt next to the bowed healer. She strode over, scooped it up and returned to her patient. Another healer finally pried the ruined headpiece off and Seren used her blade to cut the bindings on a poultice, opening it and wetting it before pressing it to the contusion on the elf’s head. His violent twitching soon subsided and she tied the bandage straps around his head before arranging him in a comfortable position to rest.

Both healers moved on as she stood again, leaving her to greet Thranduil alone. For a long moment he assessed her, noting her drawn and pale features. He said nothing; his mind having gone blank with disbelief at the sight of her, his breathing shallow within the vice his ribs had become.

“My lord…” She nodded once and moved around him, picking up her empty satchel before disappearing into the staircase.

Unsurprisingly he followed, releasing an abrupt exhale. “Seren…”

She stopped. Even in the dim cast of the torches that flickered into the nook, he could see she was exhausted. Her frazzled braid caught the firelight in a burnished golden haze around her face as she looked at him.

“Are you well?”

She grimaced. “Better than so many others…”

“Legolas tells me you nearly perished reaching our halls. You should be resting.”

Her eyes gleamed in the dark at him. “Could you rest at such a time as this?”

“I suppose not,” he murmured.

She was silent for many long moments before awkwardly apologizing. “I’m glad you’ve made it unharmed. I’ve lost enough friends today.”

He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Many have perished and more will follow, but still far fewer than would have been lost had you not returned.”

His grip on her shoulder increased ever so slightly as though to keep her from vanishing. “I admit I had not entirely believed you could reach Legolas in time, though I did not realize I harbored that seed of doubt until I saw you with my own eyes.”

The heat of his hand seeped through her tunic, contrasting against the chill in the stairs and she shivered.  “Only death would have prevented me...”

“I know.” He swallowed. It hadn’t been easy to watch her leave, believing he was allowing her to die for a fool’s hope. The possible chance she gave their people had been too precious to forfeit. “Of that I am certain and had believed likely. In this I am glad to be wrong.”

Thranduil leaned into her space, his jaw grazing her left temple and his fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic at her sides. Without words, it felt like… _gratitude_ …

There was nothing she could say that felt appropriately worthy. She let him claim her weary weight, letting go for just a moment.

A slight tremor shook him as they stood there before he relented to the desire he’d been keeping at bay. With a tilt of his head, he pressed his lips to hers for the second time.

Seren responded instinctively and a charge zipped through them both. A tiny hum slipped from Seren and her stomach flipped, heat washing over her.

He rejoiced in it and he was dismayed.

He felt her cool fingers slide over his neck and under his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He moaned quietly and her tongue darted out to taste him. No further invitation was needed and he pressed forward, fervor in his rhythm, delving into her with crushing pressure, rumbling low in his chest when she met him without hesitation. He cursed his armor’s presence as he held her there. His other hand cradled her jaw and neck, thumb grazing the round shell of her ear...

Abruptly Thranduil released her, breathing noticeably labored. “Forgive me…. This was not my intention...”

Foreboding settled over Seren and she retreated, breathing hard and watching him warily.

“Quite the opposite, in fact,” he continued.

She said nothing and waited.

He glanced at her, unable to hold her gaze lest he give into himself again. “During the journey here, I was certain of the decision I had to make; a decision I had forgotten as soon as I saw you.”

Seren nervously licked her lips with a tongue that had gone dry. “I cannot go back and forth with you like this and I will not beg...”

Finally he looked at her. “I expect not, nor would I wish it.”

Everything he wanted to say swirled through him and he settled on self-reprisal. “I am a coward where you are concerned…. And I am weak.”

Seren frowned with confusion.

“You are finite and I am assured of your passing. I fear that day. There was no memory sent to the Halls of the Valar the day my beloved perished. She was utterly gone. I dare not think I can weather such a void a second time. Yet despite knowing this, I am drawn to you.”

To hear him speak plainly of his regard for her, Seren’s composure threatened to crack. She ached to speak of all she felt but her pride was enough to stay her tongue and her logic reasoned that a king had more than himself to consider. A king who feared he might be lost to grief far too soon. She pulled him around to face her and nuzzled his cheek, drawing a deep breath through his hair. For a long moment, she clutched him to her and he relished her embrace, gaze shuttered from the stone walls around them.

“I refuse to be guilty of this,” she whispered shakily in his ear. “I refuse you.”  

She released him then, and straightened her posture even as her vision blurred and her eyes burned.

He stared wide-eyed at her, appalled and awestruck in equal measure. “You… ‘refuse’ me?”

“No decision you make here matters.” A cold fist settled under her breast and she forced herself to stillness, breath barely kept smooth and even. “You are refused, Thranduil.” She drifted away from him and down a step. “Let us not speak of this again.”

He warred with the change for a long moment before eventually nodding. She didn’t wait beyond that small acknowledgement before resuming her journey down the stairs, leaving him to wonder what he felt about this unforeseen turn of events.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Seren squared her shoulders and breathed deep to restore her composure as she walked. She focused on her poise, lifting and drawing back her shoulders and raising her chin. Her steps evened out until she was all but gliding over the stone on which she walked. When she caught sight of her disheveled hair in a mirror, she pulled the tie from her braid and gently tugged the plait apart until her long red tresses flowed in waves about her. She finger combed the locks and smoothed down the flyaways on her head until every strand was neat and orderly. The shadow she cast now was more agreeable and she smiled slightly for her own benefit and, for the moment, put her thoughts of the king behind her.

A child’s cry echoed down the hall and Seren quickened her pace, sweeping into the healer’s ward. Nuineri was surrounded by elves frantically trying to ease her pain as her skin turned to red embers. Near her right shoulder sat Menui, sobbing quietly. Seren’s heart clenched. She drifted further into the room, a feeling of urgency gnawing at her.

Ceridwen approached and led her to their friend’s bedside. “It is time…”

Nuineri gasped, her eyes black and pupils red, when she saw Seren. Her head turned toward her as if to speak but her mouth merely opened on a dry raspy cry.

Seren gently took her left hand, ignoring Ceridwen’s attempt to protest. A buzz hummed in her mind and a familiar pressure began to rise. She stared down at Nuineri’s hand, caressing the flaking ash of her skin and transfixed on the red firelight glowing through the cracks.

Heartbreak shone on Nuineri’s features as she returned the gaze. Menui sobbed and an herbalist hurried to soothe the child. Ceridwen watched Seren, mouth a grim line as ash drifted up from the contact of Seren’s hand.

“My friend....” Seren stroked a gray cheek. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. A lump took up residence in her throat. The buzz in her head grew louder and she let it, becoming a solid singular pressure. Everything around her seemed flatter somehow. Everything except Nuineri.

Through the ash and embers consuming the elf, a light glowed weakly underneath and it was slowly dimming. Seren felt her gaze narrow, trying to see more. Voices boomed dimly around her like distant thunder. A new light encroached on the edges of her sight and the room in which she stood dissolved.

Ceridwen couldn’t take her eyes from Seren and the call to withdraw her grasp refused to be uttered. Halloran stepped into the room and wove around the healer to stand mere inches from Seren’s fixed expression and unnaturally bright eyes.

“What are you doing, human?”

“Do you feel it?” Ceridwen asked. “Such a magic I have felt once before; the day we returned with Legolas through a hole between worlds…”

Halloran cast a worried glance at the healer. “Is it dangerous?”

“I do not know.”

She saw fire. She saw shifting colors of briliant light within the flames. With a thought alone, Seren embraced Nuineri and the scorch of ash and embers tore at her. She resisted the urge to cry and opened herself to it. Light swelled around her, bathing all of her awareness in a silent roar. She was everything and nothing. Raw. Fundamental. Memory and restoration and she flowed like water, washing away the burn. A large heart, flames blooming wherever it bled, bent on consuming everything, flashed before her and she stared back. Flames engulfed it and the blood ceased, its path of flame thwarted and water washed the ash away. Light reflected from it until it was all that remained. She was light. It was within. And she was surrounded by it. She commanded it. She was its will. She nurtured it. She protected it. And cast a bright and long silver shadow.


	30. The Storm Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Change is often heralded by chaos and sometimes the storm is of one's own making.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you to my lovely readers who are still with me. I wish I had the time to write to my satisfaction in a more timely fashion as I hate to keep you waiting. Enjoy this chapter and, as ever, I do hope to post again soon! Maybe one day I'll actually manage not to keep you all in suspense for too long. Thank you for your comments and feedback! They do help keep my motivation up when I'm feeling as though I've no reason to finish this tale. Every writer has those slumps and your input helps me get through them; so many, many thanks to you! Happy holidays to you and yours!

**_The Storm Begins..._ **

  
Thranduil pivoted from the nook, heading for the tunnel out of the mountain but Legolas stepped from the shadows before him. His features were set with a grim look.

“She cares for you,” the prince said immediately.

Thranduil stilled. “Yes.”

“You care for her.”

The king’s eyes flashed, though his expression remained stony and he didn’t quite meet his son’s gaze.

Though Legolas knew this affection wasn’t within their control, bitterness toyed with him when he thought of his father’s condemnation of the fondness he once had for Tauriel.

“Yes,” Thranduil finally acknowledged softly. The single word carried a staggering magnitude of meaning.

Legolas’s eyes softened. “Father, Tauriel stays in Erebor despite having her banishment lifted because of her affection for Kili. I left home because I could not bear the reminders of her here. We do not form casual bonds. You know better than most how difficult you will find it to deny this.”

“You need not fear for me.” Thranduil stated flatly. He almost believed it.

“Forgive me, ada… but I will all the same. Few would begrudge you for choosing this path, least of all me, but she is human...”  

Thranduil’s eyes widened and then he stepped back, scowling at the prince. “It cannot be. I will not forsake this kingdom, no matter my personal wishes.”

“You speak of the risk as if it is a certainty. Do you value power that much?”

“I value what such power allows me to protect,” Thranduil said pointedly.

Legolas blinked and drew in a surprised breath. Bereft of a response, he turned away.

The elvenking watched him go, his heart beating slow and hard. His chest heaved with each heavy inhale, having spoken his heart aloud more than he was prepared to.

Legolas paused. “In my chambers, there is a painting you should see.”

Not wanting to delay further, he returned to the tunnel and he didn’t stop again to see if the king followed.

 

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Ceridwen stared in awe at Nuineri and Seren, as did the rest of the elves in the ward. None dared speak. The silver luminance that filled the room moments ago had faded, taking with it the Dragon Fire that had plagued the First in Order of the kitchens. Seren stood in place, still as a statue though she blinked and still breathed. Occasionally her eyes tracked something only she could see but there was no recognition of her surroundings.

Nuineri’s gaze was fixed upon Seren. “Thank you.”

The human’s emerald eyes flickered blankly and a faint smile lifted her features for a moment.

With an unnaturally even motion, she turned from them and stared through a window at the sun’s rays. In the sudden quiet, the battering ram the Easterlings were using seemed unnaturally loud. Seren no longer flinched from the sound.

Nuineri was surrounded by her friends and her daughter. Cries of joy rose as everyone saw the elf sitting and smiling radiantly. Her gray-hazel eyes were once again clear and the ash of her skin was now a healthy color, pink with life. Amazed, the cook kept looking at herself with wide eyes.

Varis crept into the room and Nuineri spotted her immediately. “Long have you remained from my side, dear friend.”

Ceridwen appraised the librarian with a smile, “Your vigil in my hall can come to its end now.” She began an assessment of Seren, not expecting much.

Varis blushed. “Forgive me. I hadn’t wanted to burden anyone with my discontent during a time their focus would be better spent elsewhere.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” her friends said in unison.

Varis took hesitant steps until she stood several feet from Seren’s right shoulder and gazed upon her with sad eyes. “What has happened to her?”

“I wish I knew,” Ceridwen answered, pulling back from the human to simply watch her.

Varis looked to those still in beds suffering in agony and asked Seren, “Could you help the others?”

Seren said nothing. The daylight had her utterly mesmerized as she stared through the glass. She blinked and scowled from time to time but there was no indication she heard her friend.

Halloran glared at them from the center of the room. “The king will hear of this! She is not what she seems! We cannot trust her.”

Ceridwen met the warrior’s glare. “By all means, tell him.”

“She is dangerous,” Halloran insisted. “Unintentionally perhaps and thus especially more so.”

Abruptly Seren moved, staring at Halloran with unnerving intensity and her features appeared strained. “Set The Heart ablaze with its own flame.”

The voice they heard was more than Seren’s. It echoed with another tone recognizable to no one. Her eyes shone too bright and her features were too soft and pale, almost glowing.

“It must be found first,” Halloran retorted.

“It lives where nothing thrives.”

Halloran recoiled as her thoughts erupted in chaos and images. A new recollection fluttered amidst her memories, a picture of a metal cage with a large red organ inside.  

Seren returned to staring out the window. The sunlight filtering into the room abruptly dimmed as a cloud passed over the sky. The soft light in Seren’s skin became more obvious in the darkened room.

Halloran hurried from the healing ward, unnerved by a sense of something she could not name and an urgent need to speak of it.

 

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Metal clanged loudly in the air as easterners rushed an offensive to try and break the elves’ defense of the southern tunnel entrance. Legolas sent warriors to meet them and they danced over the hardened, cold ground. The Easterlings were no match for the woodland kin but skilled enough that the elves couldn’t defeat them with much ease.

Faint points of red firelight drew the prince’s gaze to the treeline and dread filled his heart. “Incoming arrows!”

The volley sailed through the air over the gray sky and Legolas frowned at the sunless expanse above. Every shield came up and the dragon blood painted barbs bounced off, pinging like metal rain.

“The sun hides,” Thranduil abruptly spoke next to him. “A fortunate development.”

The appearance of the king sent a shift through the crowd below. The battle slowed and everyone took their turn to look toward the mountain and gaze upon the forest realm’s lord.

The wave of observation passed and the combatants renewed their vigor. The elves moved with greater confidence while the human men darted away to regroup and send furtive glances to one another.

The sky darkened further and the air grew cold. The battering ram, pounding uselessly on the hall’s main doors, ceased its clanging as the footing of its operators grew slippery with encroaching frost. The sky turned an ominous shade of grey and the sound of clashing swords died away.

“He’s supposed to be dead!” shouted a man seeing Thranduil for the first time.

“Tolvaris said he dealt with Thranduil!” said another.

The elvenking allowed himself a tiny smirk. “You were misinformed.”

Many of the men shifted deeper into the trees and only halted their retreat when a new voice laughed across the distance.

“Yes… your executioners were taken by surprise before they could see to their task.”

Slowly a tall, dark elf appeared from the trees, dressed in Thranduil’s stolen black set of armor though it was large on his slender frame. The silver circlet that was taken from the king’s head now rested far too low on Tolvaris’ brow and had been haphazardly bent so it wouldn’t fall further. He grinned and lazily meandered around the stilled combatants until he stood a few meters from the base of the mountain. In the gloom of the overcast sky he appeared pasty.

“I admit I hadn’t counted on Seren to be so resourceful.” Tolvaris gestured thoughtfully as if considering his failure trivial. “And I underestimated your resistance to our sleeping draught.”

The elvenking raised an eyebrow minutely as he stared down his straight nose at the figure below. “Indeed. What exactly are your plans now? You must know your attack will fail.”

Tolvaris laced his hands together. “You will prevail, that is true… but at what cost? Elves don’t restore their numbers easily and there are others who would finish what we have started, were they to receive word of your people’s weakened state.”

Thranduil betrayed nothing of his thoughts, his eyes bright with cold fury. “Any who follow would find it impossible to breach our halls as you have discovered for yourself.”

Tolvaris grinned wide, an overly-perfect set of teeth gleaming cruelly. “You cannot hide indefinitely and you cannot forsake this land or you risk your people Fading. You will fight because you must. And you will watch your numbers dwindle into ashes until there's nothing left. And when you can no longer abide the demise of your kin, you will take them from here as you have done in the past.”

“This forest will not be yours so easily,” Thranduil said silkily. “Not all of your countrymen dare risk this gamble. Even now, your numbers are cut by a third as they wait among the trees.”

Tolvaris ground his teeth together. His failures thus far had cost him the support of the minor houses though he couldn’t allow the wood elves to be overly-certain of this.

“You said they were waiting for a signal to attack!” Lagdar shuffled through the armored men, looking sweaty with worry.

“They are.”

“What signal would that be?” Legolas demanded, raising his drawn bow.

“There will be no signal if you surrender Seren to us. Send her to me and we will leave peacefully.”

Thranduil resisted the urge to immediately command the elf be struck down, and even so his hand tightened its hold on his sword and his lips twitched with a word now upon them. “What interest is she to you that you would attack my people?”

Tolvaris affected a solemn air. “She is a traitor to our people, a war criminal. She has much to answer for... and she is my sister.”

 

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Elrond’s thoughts had become increasingly preoccupied with the past the closer they came to the woodland realm. There was a great deal to discuss and some important decisions would need to be made soon. He only hoped he could help guide them toward the most appropriate course. He had his own convictions to uphold and he knew he would fail if he wasn't careful. The Lady Galadriel was already displeased with him for not divulging all he knew but he had an age old promise to keep, the first such oath he had ever taken in fact. He wouldn't falter now.

Galadriel slipped back to his side, quietly asking by her presence alone for him to speak. Instead he resisted her inquisitive frown and gazed skyward, only to draw his own brows together as a sunless gray hue greeted him.

“Are you doing this?” he asked his companion.

“No.” She didn't look up but instead watched the shadows on the ground fade away. “The air grows cold - too cold. The sky foretells of a storm unlike any this forest has ever seen.”

“It is good we will reach king Thranduil’s halls within a day,” Elrond remarked with a hopeful smile.

Galadriel didn't share his hope. Her face remained placid as she surveyed the forest around them. She breathed deep of the crisp air and her gaze snapped toward an unseen distance in the east. Wonder and disbelief graced her features.

“We must travel this way,” she declared.

“South and east?” Elrond frowned. “The only traversable path here leads north. The human city of Esgaroth lies in that direction.”

Galadriel gazed upon the menacing sky and then north. “It will soon be impossible to pass that way.”

Again her sapphire eyes peered into the distance opposite the way they needed to go and they twinkled merrily. “There is a familiar yet old magic I sense…”

“We should find shelter, my lady” Elrond insisted.

“No.” Galadriel walked away from him, down the path that led to the city of men. “We will travel this way.”

There was nothing to be done but follow as her retinue fell in line behind her. Elrond released a long suffering sigh, though his curiosity began to take hold of him, and he followed the Noldoran elves away from the encroaching storm.

 

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Menui watched Seren with the kind of innocence only a child could have and gently stroked the human’s hand.

“Would you like some music? Or your easel?” Her expression grew sad when Seren continued her silence and she pulled Taliesin's music-playing talisman from her smock. She shook her head, golden tresses whispering around her shoulders and mouth set in a firm line. “I’ll get my flute! I want to practice the song you played for me!”

With a purpose in mind, Menui hurried from the healer’s ward, heedless of her fear of the empty and dark hallways that had once frightened her so. The long sprint left her breathless as she swept into the chambers she shared with her mother and cast her gaze wildly about before spotting a long wooden case and a wooden acoustic horn. She collected them, having to stuff the music player back into a pocket for safe keeping before heading to the door. Her lesson work lay open on a table by the window and an idea struck her, making her grin. Hurriedly she rolled up a clean parchment around a quill and stoppered her inkwell, securing the items in her smock before dashing back to Seren.

She stood exactly as Menui had left her, much to the child’s surprise. She had thought - or hoped - maybe something would change in her absence. She swallowed hard and watched Seren uncertainly as she set her things on a nearby table. The parchment was unfurled and pinned down at the top corners by little glass bottles and left to cascade over the table’s edge. The inkwell was set near it and the quill was left waiting on the blank space.

“I don’t know how long your brother’s medallion will play and I don’t want to forget the song you said you liked so much,” Menui said as she opened her reed’s case. The long instrument’s highly polished wooden body and gold inlay gleamed with the firelight of the lit braziers and it almost seemed to twinkle like fireflies.

“Menui?” Nuineri approached her daughter as though she’d been searching for her. “We shouldn’t remain here.”

“I won’t be in the way, mother!” Her eyes shone, pleading. “Please… I want to stay.”

Nuineri sighed and stepped over to the table Menui had set up. “You’re doing your flute lessons?”

Menui nodded. She pulled the music player from her smock and showed her mother how it turned on. Nuineri gasped when the little screen lit up.

“What is this?”

“Seren gave it to me. It was Taliesin’s. I found it -”

“You ‘found’ it?” Nuineri studied her daughter dubiously.

Menui blushed. “I was curious about Seren and I went into her chambers…” she mumbled. “And I found a satchel, Tal’s satchel, and there was this talisman in it. It plays music!”

“Show me.”

Menui untangled the long black cords dangling from the player and helped her mother tuck them into her ears.

“What a curious sensation,” Nuineri said as her hearing was muffled. Her eyes widened as music suddenly filled the void and she stared at her giggling daughter.

She pulled the plugs from her ears and gawked. “Marvelous!”

“They only work if they’re in your ears,” Menui told her. “Seren played this melody for me and I want to learn it before it stops playing.”

Nuineri put one of the pieces back into her ear and listened. “It’s very pretty…” She spotted the wooden horn and understood what her daughter was trying to do. “I’m sure Seren will appreciate it.”

She pulled the plug free again and handed the strange little thing back to Menui.

The black cord was removed and the music suddenly played aloud. Menui turned up the volume as far as it would go and tucked the player inside the horn. The wood amplified it enough to be heard faintly but clearly throughout the room. Many turned to her and smiled or stared curiously.

The song ended and Menui touched the face of the talisman so it started again. She picked up her quill and ink, making notes about the opening strains of the tune before pausing to listen to the flute as it entered the piece.

Varis drifted to Nuineri’s side, smiling. “Do you think Menui would mind if I gathered our music students to learn this song as well?”

“You can ask her,” Nuineri replied serenely. Her daughter stood, concentrating on the notes she heard and replicated them as best she could and marked them down on her parchment when it sounded right.

Seren made no indication she heard the music but Nuineri thought she might have drifted a little closer to the horn from which it played.

 


	31. Mysteries of War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers always beget more questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dear readers. I hope you are all well, that 2017 is being good to you thus far. As you know, I wish I could update more regularly but it's difficult to carve out time. It's only become more so since I'm dealing with a major personal upheaval in my life, one that necessitates a whole host of changes. Chapter 32 is already underway. There's going to be a lot happening so I'm a bit daunted by it but this is the setup I made for myself so...sleeves up! Head down, and put the next foot forward.
> 
> Thank you for staying with me - or if you're new to this tale, welcome! I appreciate you all. Feedback is welcome, as always. I try to listen. Sometimes I've to rethink a plot device I was going to use and sometimes it's just a difference in opinion about what should happen and my plan isn't going to change. But I do like to hear your thoughts. I'm wading a little deeper into the lore and I'm no expert so there's been a lot of research going on but I'm sure I'll get something wrong. I apologize for that in advance. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I'll see you for the next one!

 

**Mysteries of War**

 

Thranduil studied Tolvaris with a blank expression for several moments before gesturing for his guard to allow him closer. He took to the steps leading to a pulpit, standing six feet from the ground. Legolas followed closely, unconcerned with whether or not his father approved. They stopped several feet from each other and Tolvaris clasped his hands together before him.

Thranduil stared down at the half-elf. “I find your claim difficult to believe, given the circumstances,” he finally remarked. He refused to entertain Tolvaris’ statement seriously but there was much he might learn if he pretended to.

“As you must have learned by now, Seren is not what she seems,” Tolvaris said simply. “You cannot take anything about her for granted. I believed her lost until I dreamed of her. I sent Lagdar to ascertain if my vision was real. No one was more surprised than I to learn of a curious human living among the wood elves.”

“A human to which you claim kinship...” Legolas pointed out.

“She was once a full-blood elf. I am half-blood on account of our father. Seren came with him to the shores of Middle Earth. I have no explanation for how she has changed so.” Tolvaris tilted his head submissively and Thranduil frowned thoughtfully.

He paced away, tossing a suspicious glance toward the elf. “What you claim is not possible. It is more likely she simply resembles your long lost sibling.”

Fury flickered in Tolvaris’s eyes. “I have seen her, king Thranduil. She _IS_ my father’s daughter.”

Thranduil stopped. “What of her mother?”

Tolvaris' ire wilted. “Father never spoke of her. She perished during the first war between elves.”

Thranduil’s lips flattened. “The kinslayings at Alqualonde…”

“The Noldoran revolt,” Legolas murmured. “She’s from Valinor…”

The elvenking’s features registered nothing in response to this and a corner of his mouth twitched. “Of what crime is she guilty?”

Tolvaris straightened. “She is responsible for the death of our father. She defied him and divulged secrets to our enemy. He was struck down when he tried to stop her.”

Thranduil let the accusations settle into his thoughts, weighing them.

“Father?” Legolas said softly enough so only he could hear. “Could he speak the truth?”

The king flicked a brief glance to his son before scowling again at Tolvaris. “I do not know, but it is unlikely. Tolvaris believes this to be true, yet there is more to his claims than he would have us know. He is hiding much.” This last was said with a soft and resolute growl that made his features harden.

“This conflict need not continue,” Tolvaris offered amicably when the silence stretched on. “Surrender Seren to me and we will leave.”

A sudden gust of cold wind made the Easterlings flinch and snow stung their exposed skin. Thranduil peered down at the humans, unaffected by the day’s bluster.

“You have given me no reason to trust the honor of your word for the accusations you have made and I do not entertain ultimatums,” Thranduil announced haughtily. He turned away with a dismissive wave and his forces closed ranks and began to recede back toward the mountain. “You can remain out here and meet your end in this storm.”

The howl died away for a moment and Tolvaris shook his hair from his face. “You consign your people to death for a coward and a criminal, king Thranduil! I will give you until this time tomorrow to reconsider your decision.”

The elvenking exhaled sharply through his nose, thinking long and hard about the well-being of his people. It was possible there was a kernel of truth to Tolvaris’ claims, though his instincts were vehemently insisting it would be a dire mistake to bring Seren in front of him.

He paused at the entrance into the mountain, allowing himself a minute to grapple with what he was committing to. If he accepted the offer, he would be giving an unknown magic to men who, in the past, had served Sauron. Thus far, Tolvaris had made no mention of the nature of Seren’s abilities but he dared not speak of them himself for his own ignorance about them would be exposed. If he refused to let them take her, he would have to meet them in battle and more of his kin would die. Neither option bode well and he would not allow one thought of his personal hesitation to cross his mind, clenching his jaw against the ache it brought.

Thranduil released a heavy breath and took long strides into the mountain and Legolas fell into step next to him.

They almost collided with Halloran as she rushed toward the door.

“My lords!” She whipped down into a bow and straightened with a flourish. “I’ve come with news. It’s Seren -”

Thranduil didn’t slow as he traversed the walkway leading to the main corridors and Halloran huffed to keep up.

“She healed Nuineri and put something in my head!”

Abruptly the king halted and rounded on Halloran. He waited for her to come to attention but her gaze tracked off into the distance.

“The heart! I have to find the dragon’s heart, she told me.”

“Smaug’s heart?” Legolas asked.

Halloran frowned at him and nodded vigorously. “‘Set it ablaze with its own flame’ she said… I could see it...”

Thranduil spoke calmly to keep the erratic elf on track. Never had he seen such a trick as this. “How did Seren heal the dragon’s blood curse?”

Halloran’s face went slack with awe. “There was silver light…everywhere...and I could hear the sound of water - feel the light of the moon… When it faded, Nuineri was well. I told Ceridwen I would inform you and then She did something to my mind!”

“Seren?” Legolas asked.

“Yes!”

“Did this image reveal the heart’s location? Could you find it?” Thranduil asked.

Halloran blinked, her eyes like saucers and shook her head. “I know what to look for. I will know it when I see it.”

Thranduil glanced pointedly at his son who took Halloran by the arm, leading her away.

“We have to plan a search for it. I need you to tell me everything you can,” Legolas said as they wandered off.

Thranduil continued on, more pressed than ever to reach Seren. When he arrived at the healer’s ward, the sight of wounded that lay dying of the Dragon’s Heart poison halted his steps and held him fast. The salutations to his title went unheard as he gazed around the room, listening to his kin as they fought to keep their pain to themselves.

Seren stood before a window and had yet to acknowledge him. Ceridwen stumbled in from her storeroom, and struggled to bow with her arms burdened.

“King Thranduil!”

Nuineri and Varis arrived behind the healer, similarly laden with poultices and salves.

“Halloran spoke the truth…” he said awestruck as the cook stood before him, unblemished by her wounds.

“Yes, my lord,” Nuineri agreed.

He openly stared with awe for a moment longer and then approached Seren. He went still when he saw her properly and gently touched her face. The soft luminance in her skin coalesced around his fingertips and his eyes widened at the energy he felt under his touch. She shifted slightly, pulling away from him to gaze past his shoulder to the sky outside.

“She’s been like this since she healed Nuineri,” Ceridwen offered.

Thranduil didn’t take his eyes off of Seren. “Tell me everything.”

  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Eleros, Nuinethir and Tellis crowded into a room with Legolas and Halloran, who couldn’t stop pacing and staring northward.

“If we are to find Smaug’s heart,” Legolas said, “we must decipher what Seren meant.”

“It lives where nothing thrives,” Halloran repeated immediately.

Legolas’ brow furrowed thoughtfully. “What does it mean?”

Halloran shook her head, cursing the chaos Seren had made of her thoughts. She stared to the north again. “That way... More will come to me once we go.”

“There is a blizzard approaching,” Tellis pointed out. “It would be wise to wait for it to pass.”

“No!” Halloran insisted. “We will find it in the storm. We must…”

“If we find passage difficult, our enemy will find it especially perilous,” Nuinethir retorted. “I say we should try.”

“We may never have a better chance,” Eleros agreed.

Tellis sighed and made a gesture of resignation.

Legolas grinned. “Then it’s settled; as soon as we can organize a search, we go.”

Tellis laid his arms over each other across his chest. “Until we figure out how to ‘set the heart ablaze with its own flame’ finding it will be the least of our concerns.”

Legolas scowled. The advisor had a point. Seren’s cryptic statement mentioned nothing of how to achieve a fire with dragon’s blood. It was poisonous rather than flammable. “We will have to ask again.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

  
The wind battered his army as Tolvaris led them back to the only cave big enough for most of them. The raised ridge helped to protect the rest but it would still be a miserable night. The minor houses that had withdrawn from the battle earlier hadn’t set up their tents and Tolvaris could see their leaders preparing to leave.

One of their commanders wandered close and Tolvaris hurried over to stall him, grabbing his blue coat by the sleeve but the man didn’t wait for the half-elf to speak.

“You failed, son of Tolind. We will not wait to die for your foolishness.”

“I have given the elves until morning to answer my demand, lord Duroz. You forfeit a chance at glory and rich reward with your impatience.”

In the midst of their white surroundings and his snow covered wool, commander Duroz’s ruddy face appeared to float ghoulishly in the air as he leaned in close.

“You failed to remove the Guardian. King Thranduil will never hand her to you if he has the slightest inkling what she is and he’s not one to miss such a detail. The dragon poison was supposed to be your upper hand against the elves and it’s useless so long as she lives! Now the heart threatens us all. I won’t allow half my army to die in this storm so the other half can die in a pointless battle, meant solely to stroke your pride.”

Duroz yanked his arm free and marched away, telling his men to continue readying for their return trip home. The remaining houses began to march out and Duroz’s contingent soon followed. Tolvaris watched them go, features contorted with fury.

“What now?” Lagdar asked him. “We need them to force Thranduil’s hand.”

“No,” Tolvaris said flatly. “The One Who Serves has always provided for my family...” He flattened his lips together and glared at the clans abandoning him.

Lagdar paled at the mention of their powerful master but his curiosity kept him from finding something better to do.

Tolvaris strode to his tent and whipped the flap aside. Ornate iron furniture stood in stark contrast to the pale color of the hides and he sagged as warmth from the fire, standing central in the space, seeped into his bones. His desk and chair stood to the right and he spied the little ornate black and gold box he kept near him. He lifted it, taking out a glass phial. A reddish, black ash swirled inside and Lagdar shuddered upon seeing the stuff.

Tolvaris grinned. “This is all that remains of our last dragon heart. For centuries this poison secured our house and made it what it is today.”

He snatched up a quiver of arrows and plucked five from it before sitting and placing a small glass bowl before him.  He tugged the stopper in the vial free, gently tapping it until the dried old blood drifted into the waiting bowl and then added several drops of water. Using an arrow, Tolvaris stirred the mixture until the water was entirely reddish black and had noticeably thickened, coating the arrow’s tip. Satisfied he set it aside and admired the liquid’s shine in the firelight for a moment before repeating the treatment with the other four arrows. He placed all but one in Lagdar’s hands.

“Gather our best archers and see these are delivered to each of our friends. It seems only fitting to mark the beginning of a new era for the houses of Rhun with a time honored Tol tradition. And when the clans have seen reason, bring them back to camp. Tomorrow, king Thranduil will give us Seren because he will have no choice.” He smirked with such arrogance, he showed his teeth in a cruel grin. “Once we are assured of her death, we can proceed with extinguishing the light of every elf in that mountain.”

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“Seren,” Thranduil called to her softly.

She heard him. She heard all of them. They were among dozens of thoughts, hundreds of perceptions and thousands of possibilities swirling in her mind. She hadn’t gone anywhere but her head was too full. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, didn’t know if she felt hunger or thirst; she merely was. She was a glass through which everything passed. She felt the world more than saw it. She heard its sorrow and its joy. She couldn’t focus on anything for long but her memories of the king pressed everything back just enough and her gaze met his.

Thranduil’s breath left him heavily. “You are still there…”

She managed a slight strained upward twitch of her lips and breathed deeply, resisting a strong and foreign thought to return her attention inward:  _I will wait no longer…_

Gently Thranduil touched her cheek with the barest caress and he was drawn impulsively in for more, slowly opening his palm to curl it fully over her features. His gaze wouldn’t move from the emerald depths boring into him and his body went rigid. He was snared and he was consumed whole. His eyes fell closed, so suddenly heavy he could not resist. Seren was indeed there. A flood of thoughts not his own abruptly filled his mind and a silent cry parted his lips as a keen understanding instantly settled within him, resolute as stone.

Images, perceptions and awareness washed through him. A beginning of knowledge and exploration, then darkness and tragedy and following that the chaos of a sense of self split in two stretched him. He beheld glowing trees and a small human family laughing around a humble setting not of Middle Earth. A song he didn’t recognize but knew well played notes no one else heard but he and a servant of all things that grow. A friend near death and an undeniable impulse to reach for her brought a flash of silver light and held him there…

Words not spoken but understood as if they had just been uttered, left an unheeded warning:  _“If you do this, I will have no choice…. You meddle with something not meant for you - not as you are. To disregard the rules is to invite your end and you will have to choose… I have waited so you can learn and understand, such is the gift you refuse with this action…”_

Determination washed away the words with a flood of light and the consequences were thought acceptable, no matter their severity.

 _The choice of kindred.._ Thranduil felt his mind slow over the epiphany and narrow to that one notion for a moment that stretched endlessly. As suddenly as it began, the vision ended and he stumbled a single step before regaining his balance and gazing upon Seren’s still visage.

Confusion and wonder stole his breath. " _Peredhil..."_

Seren didn’t reply.

The sky was far too dull to cast the reflections of light in the depths of her eyes. Her thoughts drifted around her and his awareness of her filled the room. It prickled his nerves.  _Such is war, no matter the battlefield..._

“There is no telling how long she will be catatonic, my lord,” Ceridwen said, coming up behind him and stopping a few paces away.

Slack with shock, he moved not one whit. “She is _Peredhil..._  she must choose… ”

Ceridwen blinked. “How…? There are so few and none have been born in recent history.”

“I do not know, but I hope to have a chance to discover the answer.”

Ceridwen smirked at the back of his head, keeping her thoughts to herself but amused with them all the same.

A crash ended her musings and all eyes turned to Menui, who had dropped the tray of bandages and utensils she’d been carrying, though her expression didn’t register the accident. She ran from the room, wordlessly and didn’t respond to her mother’s calls to return.

Thranduil stared after the child and wondered about her behavior until his son strode into the room.

“Father… Halloran thinks we need to go north to find Smaug’s Heart.”

Thranduil pressed his lips together. “Into the storm…”

“Yes.”

“Set the Heart ablaze with its own flame,” Seren said for the second time.

They found her staring at them, eyes intent on Legolas but her face remained impassive.

“How?” Legolas asked her.

For a long moment it seemed she wouldn’t respond and the sounds of agony from the other end of the ward echoed unnaturally in the tense silence. She turned again, now facing the dying elves and one in particular started to cry out as his body turned to embers.

“Fire needs something to burn…” the prince murmured.

The dying elf released a final cry that dried into a long croak, followed by the whisper of falling ash as his body crumbled.

Thranduil burst into movement, crossing the room in long strides and grasping a lantern burning brightly on the wall. He dumped the fire and its swaddling into the nearby fireplace and placed fresh kindling sticks in the basin.

Legolas took the iron tongs from the mantle and went to the dead elf’s bed.

“You can’t take one of our people’s remains!” Ceridwen protested as she understood what was happening.

“His death is absolute,” Thranduil pointed out. “They are of no value and will soon be lost, turned to ash.”

“This must be done now,” Legolas added. “Or we will have to wait for another to perish.”

Ceridwen subsided and stepped away from them, head down. Legolas rushed to the glowing embers and plucked a clump from the bedding, dropping it into the lantern Thranduil held. The fire sparked but didn’t catch the kindling and began to dim.

Legolas scowled. “This will be out before we reach the bridge.”

The flames licked a little higher at the soiled bandaging clinging to the lump of embers and the king watched it, transfixed. “Dragon’s Heart consumes life.”

Abruptly he pulled one of his swords partially from its scabbard and swiped his palm along the fine blade. Crimson flowed over the pads of his fingers and he squeezed the wound over the flames.

Both elves blinked as the flames roared suddenly higher, their color taking on a reddish hue on the edges and the center burned a bright golden white. The fire rippled with a scalloped diamond pattern and followed a serpentine rhythm.

A grim smile graced Legolas’s features and he took the lantern from his father, closing the little panes of glass.

“Now we only need to keep it lit.”

Thranduil nodded at the clean bandages Menui had dropped and Legolas gathered them. He passed a roll to his father to clean his cut and the blood smeared cloth was tossed into the lantern a moment later.

With an abrupt nod, Legolas strode from the room, snatching more bandages from a nearby table as he passed.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

 _"Leithenil..."_  

Galadriel whispered, gazing at the path ahead.

Elrond stopped beside her and scowled at the kinder, warmer passage northward. “You believe she did this?”

Galadriel merely smiled with a certainty only she possessed and stepped a few paces forward. “I know this magic well. It has been ages since I’ve felt it but I would know it anywhere.”

Elrond’s lips flattened as he considered this. The path in which they stood began not far from the city of men known as Esgaroth and the direction it lay led straight to the kingdom of woodland elves. Within the borders of the path, the storm seemed muted, softer and not as cold. He smiled when he spotted a young small tree swaying from the breeze.

“The sickness of Mirkwood has been lifted here,” Elrond noted. He turned to Galadriel. “It couldn’t have been your doing…”

The older elf’s eyes twinkled with a pointed look. “Come Lord Elrond, a much overdue reunion awaits.”

She spun from him then and began to march over the soft snow packed terrain. Her retinue fell into step on either side of her, leaving her son-in-law to follow as he would.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Legolas checked his gear and supplies a final time before asking each of his kinsmen about their readiness. All reported they were ready and double checked their weapons were secure.

Halloran paced incessantly, her pack clinking with glass bottles, poultices & medicines given to them by Ceridwen. The warrior itched to be on their journey, more so for the strange impetus placed in her head than any real desire to trek through a storm, searching for a dragon’s heart. Even if she were not an excellent tracker, she would've known the direction she needed to follow. The pull in her thoughts would have guided her north. It was a maddening sensation.

When the prince gave the command to head for the doors, she all but sprinted to the kingdom’s main passage.

Legolas felt his stomach drop as he left the warmth and safety of the mountain, trailing behind Halloran. Snow stung his skin and the forest was nearly lost amid a canvas of dull white. Night would be falling soon but it was nearly dark despite it being late in the afternoon. He checked the lantern he held, to be sure the fire inside still flickered well, The glass protected it from the worst of the weather but streams of icy wind slithered into the vents and it sparked erratically.

To himself he muttered, “I hope this works.”

Ahead of him, Halloran couldn’t hear as she picked her way precisely around the trees and slopes of their home, despite the terrible visibility.

Behind him Tellis, Eleros and Nuinethir copied his footsteps and his words were lost to the howling wind.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Thranduil shifted from one foot to another, lightly holding his right arm around his middle, pinning his hand with an elbow and grimaced faintly. Ceridwen watched him, eyes narrowed.

“Does something trouble you, king Thranduil?”

He dropped his hands, clasping them behind his back. “A father’s worry…”

She smiled understanding and approached him, to stand before Seren as well and peruse the unchanged expression.

“Had you crowned him king, you could have undertaken his mission.”

The king allowed the remark. It wasn’t false. “He does not want the crown, though he is still young enough to grow into it.”

Ceridwen nodded absently. “There may come a day when he finds himself wearing it regardless.”

Thranduil didn’t refute her.

Unease bloomed in her stomach but before she could think of a way to voice the feeling, the shuffling of feet broke her attention.

Menui huffed under the weight of Seren’s easel, several canvasses and the satchel of brushes and inks. Her feet slid over the stone flooring in quick tiny steps as the cargo impeded her knees.

The healer snickered and went to help the child. “Goodness!”

Menui set the easel not far from Seren and began setting it up with a canvas.

Thranduil watched curiously as the paints and brushes and inks were prepared for use.

“What do you intend with this?”

Menui met the king’s gaze, eyes going round.

“Seren has no need of these things,” he added.

“She asked for them," Menui said in a rush, "in my head but without words.”

Once everything was ready, they  stood and waited, watching Seren but there was no change. She remained as unreachable as ever, her gaze drawn to the world outside.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Snow stung his eyes as Legolas tried to see what it was Halloran declared to be a sign of the Heart’s proximity. The immediate vicinity was bleak, grey with the snow-covered sick trees of Mirkwood and had only grown harder to see through in the hours since they struck out from their mountain home.

“There!” She pointed.

His gaze followed and at first nothing seemed out of place. Then he saw a vulture, flying in the storm against all good sense and drifting close to a thick wall of swirling snow churning in the gales just north of the ridge behind which they stood. The creature swooped down and forward only to veer left and circle away as if physically repelled. Whatever it sought, it refused to give up and attempted again to fly into the expanse ahead of it. This time it continued and immediately its flight faltered. The bird listed to the right and continued for a moment before the wings spontaneously folded. The body rolled face up, the wings slack out to the sides as the animal fell out of sight.

“It lives where nothing thrives,” Legolas intoned.

“There goes another,” Tellis pointed out just before a second bird plummeted to the ground.

“The ridge…” Eleros murmured. “It is only when the birds cross the border that they fall. How will it affect us?”

Everyone in the group shuffled nervously save Legolas. “They use the Heart for poison. If Tolvaris can withstand it, so can we.”

Halloran yelled for them and they saw she had drawn several dozens of paces ahead and was near the base of the ridge. They hurried after her, breath puffing thick enough into the air to obscure their vision further. Legolas shivered. They would soon have to find shelter for the night.

“Halloran!” He called out to her.

She stopped and beckoned them toward her. A dark narrow gap took shape through the white haze and soon they entered a crevasse in the ridge. It was barely wide enough for them to slip through sideways single file but the relief from the wind was immediate and profound.

Tellis gasped with the freedom of breathing properly. “This is utter madness! We should return to our halls and wait -”

“No!” Halloran’s eyes were entirely round and lit with a manic gleam. “We are close.”

“We won’t be able to get any closer in this blizzard.”

“Do you not see?” She demanded of the advisor. “The Heart is the cause of this storm. We are near its center. Until it is destroyed, the storm will remain.”

Legolas scowled. “How can you know this?”

Her eyes darted to him. “It consumes life. Everything life needs to survive, it destroys: warmth, sunlight, the essence of creation…”

Halloran squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head, placing a hand on the side of her skull and breathing deep to steady her thoughts. “Seren showed me the storm but I didn’t understand. It’s no accident I am pulled closer to the center. The Heart lies there.”

The buffing wind pulsed outside their shelter and the cadence of it snared Legolas’s attention.

Tellis sneered. “So we should take that human’s word for it?”

“Listen…” Legolas muttered.

Tellis didn’t hear him. “You have all taken leave of your senses to place such blind trust -”

“Listen!” Legolas commanded and it echoed over the rock.

Tellis watched him with wide eyes.

“The wind, listen to it.”

A soft yet distinct dual thump echoed rhythmically under the howls and whistles.

“A heartbeat,” Nuinethir said. “Legolas, that heart cannot still live!”

“Smaug’s darkness will not soon be forgotten by the world. We have never had need of the Heart but who is to say removing it from his corpse wouldn’t carry dire consequences?”

Eleros exhaled angrily. “We should’ve destroyed Smaug’s remains when we had the chance, no matter what the humans wished!”

“Now his hatred for life will poison the land,” Halloran said quietly.

“All the more reason to destroy it,” Legolas said grimly.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Menui sat on an empty bed, trying to dispel her melancholy. The king had long since left the infirmary to see to management matters of the kingdom and Ceridwen was once again hard at work making medicines, salves and bandages. Varis came to check on her and to see if there was any change in Seren and she was fussing over the human’s hair, combing it free of tangles. The sky had grown dark and the wind howled piercingly against the windows.

Menui knew it had to be getting late when her mother left to see to her kitchen. She thought of going there where it was warm and smelled of spiced bread but she didn’t want to deal with the activity right now. Again she stared at Seren who hadn’t moved an inch closer to her easel.

A particularly nasty wind whistling past startled her and she thought of her flute. The idea of drowning out the storm lit her features with glee and she scurried to the table she’d left the instrument on and unrolled the parchment of sheet notes she’d made earlier.

She started with the quiet soft notes and her fingers drifted over the reed. The song was still as pretty as she remembered and Menui smiled against the mouth of her flute.

Varis made a noise of surprise that Menui ignored, thinking it a reaction to the music, until the sound of a brush whispering over a canvas reached her ears. She nearly dropped her flute when she whirled around. Seren stood before her easel, a brush in her hand and her features strained with concentration.

“Seren? Can you hear me?”

Menui watched for recognition or a pause in brush strokes but Seren continued on. The reed was warm in her hand and Menui exhaled sharply before returning to the song. The strains flowed through the room and the storm punctuated the song in the places where other instruments belonged and all the while, Seren’s brush never stopped.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Nuineri surveyed the occupied dinner hall, noting the subdued air. Everyone was somber as the day’s events and concern for the prince weighed on their minds. Many had lost loved ones or would soon. News of why Legolas went out into the storm had traveled thoroughly through the population and the tenuous hope it offered was palpable. No one dared speak of it so the conversation lull consisted of strained and bland pleasantries.

The cook smiled sadly at them before turning away to gather the king’s tray. The hallways were eerily silent after a day of hurried activity to respond to the Easterlings’ attack. More lanterns had been lit as shudders had been placed over the arches in the stone that normally allowed the moon’s glow to light the passages. The wind rattled the wood and the air was cold. She shivered and hastened her steps.

She found the elvenking seated on his throne, conversing with the remainder of his advisors. He nodded minutely at her in acknowledgement as she silently set the tray on a nearby table.

Abruptly he stood from his perch upon the dais, his gaze alight with interest. “Music…”

“My lord?” An advisor looked up from the scroll he’d been reading from.

“Continue with the new implementations,” he ordered, sweeping down the steps of his throne, passing his dinner and all but running from the cavern.

Nuineri hurried after him, though she hadn’t heard any music. Soon enough however, she could hear the ethereal notes of her daughter’s flute too.

“It’s Menui…”

Thranduil said nothing in reply and worry over the king’s ire gnawed in her belly.

The music grew louder as he came into the healer’s wing and he swept around the end of the wall into the ward, his hair drifting after him. Immediately he noticed the change and gazed upon Seren. Ceridwen, Varis and many others stood around the room watching the human as she painted furiously upon her canvas and Menui as her flute produced a fine melody. When she saw him she merely played on.

Nuineri blinked as her daughter ignored everyone including herself and the king and played with nimble confidence. Smiles adorned the faces of the suffering and wounded in the ward.

Varis slipped closer. “Her mastery of the instrument has grown considerably,” she told Nuineri.

The cook could only stare at her dumbstruck.

Thranduil came to Seren’s right shoulder and his mouth fell open, his features pained. The scene of Thorin Oakenshield’s funeral was unmistakable. He lay still and arrayed to noble magnificence. Orcrist glistened with painted light as vibrantly as if it lay before them.

“The end of the line of Durin,” Thranduil murmured softly. “An event that took place five years before she arrived here…”

“She’s been doing this for hours now,” Ceridwen said and gestured to several paintings standing on the deep window ledges, leaning against the glass. Surveying them, he began to understand.

The nearest one was a rendering of an elf who had passed during the battle at the Lonely Mountain. The man had golden hair and clear blue eyes, like the child who now played beautiful music. The image was fuzzy around the edges, painted that way deliberately and the face smiled as he watched. His hair fluttered by a breeze and he reached out of the confines of the painting. Thranduil felt a finger tuck his hair behind an ear and the sound of a giggle arose. Sunlight warmed his skin and the sounds of water flowed nearby.

Abruptly the illusion ended and he reached reflexively for his immaculate locks feeling foolish and staring wide eyed at the painting, now still once again.

Ceridwen watched him knowingly. “Menui’s father…”

“These are memories.” Thranduil murmured as he set the painting back in place.

An image of Tauriel grabbed his attention. The overly warm light of the image made his hand tremble when he reached for it. It could be none other than his son’s memory.

It was her profile, lit by the midday sun, her hair aflame with its light as it eddied and swirled from the gentle currents brought by the waterfall below.

_“You cannot hunt thirty orcs, on your own.”_

_She turned to him. “But I am not on my own.”_

_How well she knows me…. His chest ached with the thought. “You knew I would come.”_

_She smiled and his heart paced faster._

_“The king is angry, Tauriel. For six hundred years my father protected you, favored you. You defied his orders. You betrayed his trust. Come back with me. He will forgive you.”_

_“But I will not. If I go back I will never forgive myself.”_

_She turned from him, scowling with confusion. “The king has never let orc filth roam our lands, yet he would allow this orc pack to cross our borders and kill our prisoners.”_

_A half-hearted rebuttal he did not believe but for the sake of loyalty to his father fell from his lips. “It is not our fight!”_

_She turned toward him,walking closer, fire in her eyes. “It is our fight. It will not end here. With every victory this evil will grow. If your father has his way, we will do nothing! We will hide within our walls, live our lives away from the light and let darkness descend. Are we not part of this world? Tell me, mellon, when did we let evil become stronger than us?”_

_Despite his father’s wishes he felt this to be true as well and his gaze narrowed to have his heart spoken so plainly back to him. All thought of bringing Tauriel home seemed foolish now._

Thranduil slammed the painting down and backed away from it, ire churning like acid under his breast. No one dared speak to him though he felt their gazes upon him. His breath was ragged. He’d seen the moment his son was lost to her whims and shame burned through him to think it was an intimation of his cowardice Tauriel used to sway him.

It took several long moments to calm his anger and as he stared into nothing, a painting began to glow with light. His brow furrowed as he picked it up, now oblivious to the others. The image was a pair of shadows - two trees in a valley on a small hill. There was little light in the image but soon the trees began to glow softly. One was of silver hue, the other golden.

He felt soft grass on his bare feet and could smell the wet earth and rain in the air as flowers opened their petals again to sweeten the earthy scent.

_“Leithenil!”_

A friend filled her vision, her hair falling in liquid golden waves over her shoulders, cobalt eyes penetrating and her soft smoky voice teasing as she smirked.

_“Tutor with me. Melian is kind but I should prefer to have a friend to learn with.”_

The trees once again took center stage in the memory. _“For Laurelin and Telperion, I will ask and hope she will have me.”_

_“How could she not? None are so skilled with Yavanna’s gifts as you.”_

Pride was a warm sensation in this memory and the view was once again of blue all-seeing eyes. _“You are a dear friend, but my power is nothing compared to yours.”_

Those blue eyes softened and yet seemed to laugh at the same time. _“To nurture growing things requires a different sort of power than raw force.”_ Now her friend gazed somberly. _“I go to Melian to learn temperance.”_

Leithenil took her friend’s hands in her own and her red locks fell over them. _“Dispel this melancholy, Galadriel. Come… our destiny awaits!”_

The room tilted dizzyingly as the memory released Thranduil. The painting in his hands was again still and he sat heavily on a nearby bed, eyes wide. He replayed what he’d seen, analyzing it. The memory belonged to one who had known the Lady of Lothlorien in a time long forgotten and no one in this kingdom - not even himself - could claim that. He recalled the clasped hands and studied Seren’s head of ruby tresses and he knew whose memory this was.

“Leithenil.”

Seren stopped her frantic painting and bored him with a bright gaze.

Slowly he stood and went to her, his legs shaky under his weight. “That was who you were before, as a guardian of the Trees…”

Her features flickered with confusion but a severe scowl took its place a moment later and a heavy voice filled the room. “THE CHILD MUST CHOOSE!”

“How did she come to this?” Thranduil rushed to inquire, circling to the other side of the easel.

Seren’s head followed him, though her expression became distant. “To keep the most precious of my rules, I had to break others but it is not my story to tell.”

The elvenking frowned thoughtfully. “What rule could be so important?”

Seren returned the paint brush to her canvas before answering, “The chance for atonement.”

“What of the quest my son is on?”

The voice within Seren laughed without mirth. “It is all the help you will get from me. Destroying the heart will lift its curse so that Seren may stop defying me and perverting Arda's laws of natural order.”

The paint brush resumed its hectic strokes and Thranduil stepped away, watching her.

Nuineri voiced the question they all wanted to ask, “What could she possibly have to atone for?”

Thranduil gazed once more upon the painting in his hands and the silhouettes of the Trees standing serenely over a lush valley and wondered.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



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